


Just The Way You Are

by Cryofreeze



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Divergence - Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Eventual Fluff, First Kiss, James is Bucky's great grandson, M/M, Post-Avengers (2012), Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Shrunkyclunks, Steve is confused about his feelings on that, Steve is still adjusting to the 21st century, but he's not Bucky he's James, post-serum Steve, slight angst, steve misses bucky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-03-04 19:35:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13371675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cryofreeze/pseuds/Cryofreeze
Summary: “I'm sorry, it's just you look so much like...”James waited for the end of that sentence, at a loss, and Steve suddenly wished he could disappear into the floor.If 'daughter' and then 'granddaughter' was tough enough to accept, he had no idea how he'd ever manage to associate Bucky with anything close to a great grandson!~ ~ ~ ~Steve meets Bucky's great grandson, James, who just so happens to look almost exactly like his dead best friend and he has no idea how to deal with that, or the unprofessed feelings that are suddenly dragged back into his life.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something fairly short and sweet before launching into my huge, multi-chaptered, post-CW, Infinity War AU angst fest coming up soon and this is what happened :P I'm estimating it'll be about 5 chapters but writing always seems to run away with me so I guess we'll see how that goes :) (Already, I can tell this isn't going to be as short as I'd originally intended) Fluff coming in later chapters and for now I hope you enjoy chapter one! x
> 
> (If you're interested in the aforementioned Infinity War AU angst fest, hopefully chapter one should be up by the end of the month!)
> 
> Title from the Bruno Mars song “Just The Way You Are”.

 

 

Steve let out a breath, hesitating on the sidewalk and toying restlessly with his motorcycle helmet in an effort to control his nerves. A part of him just wanted to turn around and ride back to the tower, pretend he couldn't find the house or he'd been called away on urgent business. But there it was, right where it was meant to be with the name scrawled neatly on the letterbox. There was no mistaking it.

Here we go, Steve thought to himself, then forced his legs to carry him forward and through the tiny gate that led up to the front door. All the houses on the suburban street looked almost the same, each with neat little gardens and fences running around them in perfect symmetry. They looked like something out of a postcard, so unassuming and sweet, but Steve's hand was shaking slightly when he reached out to press the doorbell.

He could hear the chime from inside the house, then waited with his hands wringing behind his back when footsteps grew louder behind the door. He let out another breath, willing himself to calm down and smile when the wood swung open and –

Oh.

Steve's brows flickered in confusion, his smile faltering. “I'm sorry, I thought this was –” He started, but the middle aged woman in the doorway just smiled at him in greeting and waved away his apology.

“You're Steve. You're in the right place, Nana's waiting for you in the living room.” She stepped aside to allow a bewildered Steve into the house, his mind slowly catching up with her words as she shut the door behind him with a soft click.

“Nana?” He turned to ask the woman, suddenly feeling overcome with the doubts he'd had to talk himself out of on the ride over. Now, Steve felt utterly overwhelmed and unequipped to handle the afternoon ahead of him. He thought the woman could tell, because her features turned softer in understanding. “You're, uh, her...?”

“Wynn.” Wynn stretched out a hand that Steve shook belatedly, trying to be cautious of his strength and get control of himself at the same time. “I'm so pleased to meet you. Nana will want to explain everything herself and you look like you could use a seat.” Wynn's blue eyes smiled at him before she turned to lead the way down the hall toward an open door.

Steve followed dumbly and rubbed the back of his neck, wishing he didn't feel so out of his depth as he stepped further and further away from the exit. The house was warm, he noticed, and slightly stuffy with that old lady smell in the air. Ornaments and picture frames fought for space on every surface and wall, which made Steve relax somewhat even as he purposefully avoided looking at the photographs themselves. He had to smile to himself at the organized disarray of the place, and some of his apprehension fell away.

“Nana? He's here.” Wynn disappeared into the room first. The answering noise of excitement from inside warmed Steve's heart, and when he finally passed the threshold and saw her for himself, he forgot all about feeling out of place and all those lost years between them.

  
  


~ ~ ~ ~

  
  


“Wynn is my niece, one of three if you'd believe it.” The old woman exclaimed, as though she could hardly believe it herself. Steve muffled his smile in his sandwich, absorbing the taste of home – his _real home –_ from it's contents. He felt like he would burst from nostalgia at any moment, glowing with pride and comfort as he watched her talk about her life. He'd missed so much, but right now with a full belly and a real slice of his past life squished beside him on an unbelievably comfortable sofa, Steve couldn't find it in himself to feel sad about it.

“Wow, the Barnes women strike again.” He received a hearty laugh in reply from both Wynn and her Aunt. Aunt Becca, that was going to take more getting used to than 'Nana', Steve thought. “Us boys were always outnumbered, I guess it's a hereditary thing.”

“Apparently so.” Becca mused. Her silver ponytail rested on her shoulder, considerably thinner than it used to be, but it framed her face the same way it always had. Before arriving Steve had worried that he wouldn't recognise her, but it seemed there had been no need. Everything about her was so familiar of that little girl he'd once known that it was easy to look past the years and everything in between. “Though I had two sons myself, which sort of levelled out the playing field.” Becca added and Steve almost choked on his sandwich, something that only made her face grow more crinkled in amusement. “What's so funny about that?”

Steve grinned, trying to get himself out of trouble. “Nothing! It's just... hearing that you had kids. I still find it strange that you kiss boys.” He laughed at the unimpressed purse that took hold of Becca's mouth, though Wynn, sitting across from Steve on another sofa, seemed to find it highly amusing.

Becca softened slightly. “Yes, well, I would find it strange too if I still kissed young boys.” She laughed at that, pleased with the reaction rippling through the room. Wynn shook her head while Steve wrinkled his nose.

“I used to change your diapers, Bec, sorry if I find this whole thing a little weird.” He said, then finished the last bite of his sandwich before moving onto another despite his perfectly satiated appetite. He didn't ever want to lose the taste of home again.

“Alright, I suppose you earned that one...” Becca relented, helping herself to a sandwich too while watching Steve out of the side of her eye. They ate in a comfortable silence for a few minutes until Wynn excused herself to allow them time alone.

“You're just a boy yourself you know, almost unchanged since the last time I saw you. Apart from the obvious.” Becca tapped his bicep through the fabric of his shirt.

“Technically I'm 94.” He pointed out through a mouthful of bread, pretending his true age didn't disturb him as much as it really did.

“'Technically' you're still younger than my sons.” She shot back, and Steve laughed harder than he'd expected to, almost for the first time since he'd awoken in the 21st Century.

Even when his thoughts inevitably turned to Bucky, his pain didn't entirely engulf the warmth ignited in him by Becca. Still, Steve's smile fell at the corners and he rubbed his palms together, wondering if he should voice his thoughts aloud for fear of upsetting Bucky's youngest sister. Then he realised it had been an entire lifetime for her since her brother's death, and decided he didn't want to keep thoughts of Bucky to himself this time.

“What d'you think Bucky would've had? A boy or five girls?” He laughed shortly to his knees, trying not to let himself picture the future that had never been. After a moment, Steve noticed that Becca hadn't replied and turned his head to look questioningly at her. He'd assumed she hadn't heard him or she, like him, possibly didn't want to consider the answer. But when he saw the look on her face and the way she almost looked _through_ him, he realised something was wrong.

“Bec?” Steve enquired, about to reach for her when she beat him to the punch and encased both of his hands between her dry, warm palms. Steve blinked at her, unsure what was happening or where this was going.

“Steve,” Becca began, pausing for thought before she seemed to decide on the right thing to say. Steve felt like a child about to be told there was no Santa Claus by the seriousness and the sympathy in her expression. The happy, simmering warmth in his gut fizzled into cold dread of what was going to come next. “Wynn, she's... she's my great niece. Her mother was my niece, and _her_ father was...”

Becca watched him, waiting for the pieces to come together in his slow, shock-addled brain. Steve tried to do the math but found it impossible with the maelstrom of confusion and doubt in his mind, and instead honed in on everything she had laid out for him.

Wynn, her grandfather was...

“ _Bucky?_ ” Steve croaked, his throat suddenly as dry as a desert. He felt like he might cough out his heart with how hard it was beating, sending a pulsing beat up into the back of his skull and down to the tips of his toes. “But that – what do – _how?_ ” He whispered, conscious of Wynn bustling around somewhere in the house.

Becca squeezed his hands. “You know what he was like, always taking different girls out around the town. Well, one of them came to the house after the war ended with a little girl she claimed was his. At first, Ma was sceptical – who wouldn't want the father of their child to be the war hero Bucky Barnes!”

Steve grimaced at that, trying not to feel outrage at the thought of people using Bucky's name and his status to their own advantage.

Becca continued, “But when we saw the girl there was no mistaking it: she had the Barnes chin, she had his eyes... And we couldn't very well leave the two of them out in the cold, could we? Unmarried, and with a child out of wedlock?”

Steve nodded in understanding, feeling suddenly very grateful for the 21st Century after all. Maybe it wasn't always a bad thing that the world had come so far since 1945, he thought.

“They lived with you?” He asked, finally coming to the realisation that this wasn't a mistake or a misunderstanding... Bucky'd had a _daughter_ , and he'd never even known about it!

“Not with me, she moved in with our parents and they all raised the baby together. Eventually, she grew up and had a baby of her own. It's strange how fast time can pass.” Becca said fondly, pointing toward the side table at Steve's end of the sofa. “Will you pass me that album?”

Steve's heart caught in his throat. He wasn't sure if he was ready to see _Bucky's daughter_ with his own two eyes, but he retrieved the leather-bound photo album anyway and handed it over to Becca. He cleared his throat to find his voice again. “Am I in that album?” It came out too small for his liking.

Becca smiled cheekily at him as she opened the front page. “Not this one, but there's no shortage if you ever want to see them.” Steve's shoulders sagged in relief.

“No, I... I'd rather not. Not yet.” Steve sighed deeply, missing that warm, happiness he'd garnered earlier. Now, he felt like he was in some bizarre dream where Bucky'd had a _kid – Bucky had been a father! –_ though he supposed he'd have to come around to the truth at some point, because it wasn't a dream. Bucky had a daughter, and a _granddaughter_. Steve doubted he'd be able to wrap his head around that for some time.

He scooted closer to look at the photographs despite himself, and held his breath when he saw the old, time-worn pictures of a cute little toddler smiling up at him from the page. His heart thumped harder and then melted under the stare of the beautiful little girl that was almost achingly familiar. Becca had been right about the unmistakable resemblance.

He smiled, so wide that his cheeks burned and his eyes prickled in awe. “She looks like him.” He said quietly.

Becca chuckled beside him. “Told you.”

“What's her name?”

“Jane. She was a little tyke, let me tell you.”

Steve laughed, a spike of fondness shooting to his heart as he gazed at the beautiful, badly behaved toddler. “Somehow that doesn't surprise me.”

Becca turned the pages, pointing out the new faces Steve didn't know but all of whom had that familial resemblance to the second family he'd had growing up. True to her word, there were none of Steve, but there were some pictures of Bucky as a baby then a toddler scattered amongst the others. Steve didn't want to see, so he just skimmed quickly over those almost only to remind himself that Bucky was real, once.

He was fascinated by the pictures of Bucky's daughter, Jane – still a bizarre concept, even when he was staring at the proof with his own eyes – and only just managed to hold in his heartbreak when Becca informed him that Jane and her mother had both already passed away. He could barely believe it was possible that a whole life had come and gone in the time he'd been asleep under the ice, and his hands had trembled so badly he'd had to sit on them to regain control of his anger and sadness. Becca's own children looked less like the faces he'd once known, and they were both already grown men with families of their own. _Becca_ had grandchildren, and that fact alone seemed to push Steve over the edge until he finally broke down in fits of hysterical laughter in Becca's living room. Laughter was better than crying, he decided, and allowed himself to let it all out while Bucky's littlest baby sister laughed it out beside him like the good old days.

“I see you two are having no trouble getting along.” They both looked up when Wynn entered the room with a glass of water in one hand and some tablets in the other. She handed them to Becca who accepted them easily. Steve tried to disguise the worry etched on his face.

“I'm fine, it's nothing serious. I'm an old woman now, pills come with the territory.” She assured him, then swallowed them down without issue. Steve's expression relaxed a little. He turned to Wynn, smiling at the fully grown, middle aged counterpart to the small child he'd just been looking at in pictures.

He got to his feet and walked over to her, extending his hand for a proper handshake instead of the awful, botched one they'd shared earlier. She took it happily. “I'm sorry, I didn't realise you were... you're his, uh...” Steve bashfully rubbed the back of his neck again as Wynn watched him in amusement. “It's still a little weird to say it out loud.” He admitted.

She laughed at him, not unkindly. “It's alright, I can't imagine how this must feel for you. But let me just say that you're handling it all pretty well in my opinion.” She squeezed his hand before they parted, and Steve found he didn't want to let go.

As he watched her, he was suddenly overcome with furious pride for the woman _Bucky's fucking granddaughter_ had turned out to be. She didn't resemble him too closely, but she had the familiar sense around her that Steve had grown used to when surrounded by the Barnes family, like that of her namesake Winifred Barnes. But her ice blue eyes and Barnes chin made him smile deeply, warm in his chest, as those had come directly from Bucky.

“It's so great to meet you, it really is. I'm so happy I got to talk to you and that I didn't miss my chance.” Steve had to pause and swallow the lump in his throat, fighting the strong urge to hug her tight if just to hold a piece of his long lost best friend. A piece of what, who, he'd left behind.

He needn't have bothered, because the next second Wynn hugged him herself and Steve realised that it might have been his first real, loving, _caring_ embrace since 1945. He let himself melt into the hug, not caring whether Wynn was more like Bucky or Mrs Barnes to him right now as either would do. When they parted, she held him gently by the upper arms the way a grown up would to a child, and Steve found it didn't bother him in the slightest.

“Would you like to stay for dinner? We'd love to have you, and I'd like to hear some embarrassing stories of Nana as a little girl.” Wynn laughed and Steve beamed. Here, he was surrounded by family, or the closest thing to it, and suddenly realised that leaving this house was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Sure, that'd be great. I'm not sure I'm much of a storyteller though...”

Just then, the bang of a door and a voice carried through from the hall.

“Nana?” Instinctively Steve turned to watch the door, as both Wynn and Becca did with easy smiles on their faces. Steve's interest was piqued as the voice and footsteps carried down the hall toward the living room. “Nana, I brought you the adaptor cable. I can set it up for you now if – ”

The next second every thought, feeling and muscle in Steve's body froze. Bucky was standing in the living room, just a few steps away and looking at Steve in surprise as though he hadn't expected him to be there. Steve doubted it matched the look of utter disbelief crossing his own features.

 _...Bucky_ was standing there looking at him?!

“Hi.” He said, then turned to Becca as he dropped a backpack off his shoulder and dumped it beside the door. “Sorry, I didn't know you had someone here.”

Becca spoke from somewhere a long, long way off. “It's alright, dear, come and sit with us.”

Steve could only stare in utter shock and dawning horror as _Bucky!_ walked over to her side and sank into the space beside her that Steve had recently vacated, settling in like he absolutely belonged there. Steve only realised he was still staring and had forgotten how to breathe when Bucky's dark brows pulled together in a tiny frown of confusion when they met eyes again. _Ice blue, just like Steve remembered._ He then looked past Steve at Wynn.

“What's goin' on?”

Steve felt like he'd just been kicked in the chest by the Hulk. He managed to tear his eyes away from Buckyand round on Wynn, perplexed, blinking at her like an idiot.

Yeah, what's going on??! he squeaked internally.

And then Steve was being manoeuvred across the room with Wynn's hands on his arms again. He didn't fight back, didn't think he could have if he'd wanted to, and allowed himself to be positioned before the sofa like a piece of furniture.

If he moved his left foot just a few inches he would be able to touch the toe of Bucky's shoe and see for himself whether he was a hallucination or if something even more crazy was happening. Steve's gaze locked on to Bucky's face again, to those ice blue eyes and the bone structure that he would recognize anywhere.

Wynn was speaking, and Steve had to focus very hard to drag his mind back to reality and try to listen to what she was saying. “Steve just came round for a visit and to catch up with Nana.”

Bucky opened his mouth to reply, then he made eye contact with Steve's (probably unnerving) stare and seemed to re-think his approach. “He's Captain America.”

Hearing those words seemed to snap Steve out of his shock, and he stuttered a few times before he was capable of making a coherent sound. “I- I'm sorry, I – yeah, I – I'm Steve. Rogers.” He managed, his brain and his manners finally coming back online like an old radio sparking into life. To his own ears he sounded breathless and pathetic, but there were much more pressing matters on his mind than that. _Like_ _Bucky being alive and sitting right in front of him!_

Bucky glanced uncertainly between Becca and Wynn before he held out his hand for Steve to shake. “James. Nice to meet you.” He said politely, even if couldn't have been more apparent by his expression that it wasn't _nice_ to meet Steve.

“James...?” He repeated numbly, searing the uneasy, weary face of Bucky – _James –_ into his mind like his life depended on it. He now felt entirely worse than he had before setting foot in the house in the first place; his stomach, once full and content, now burned in an ache so fierce he couldn't place the sensation at first. Finally he realised he might throw up, then (worse, much worse) he realised he was fighting not to burst into tears. All of the air in the room evaporated and Steve was left to suffocate in silence for the eternal second it took for James to reply.

“...You okay there, Cap?” He squirmed where he sat, obviously uncomfortable under the scrutiny but trying his best to hide it. It was only when he withdrew his hand that Steve realised he'd forgotten to shake it. But all he could see was the look on real Bucky's face when he'd fallen to his death, playing forever in his nightmares on a constant loop in perfect clarity. Just as clear as the face looking back at him now...

“James is my son.” Wynn appeared at Steve's side, or maybe she'd been standing there all along, he couldn't be sure. It was as if the world had just disassembled and reassembled itself around him, entirely different while also just the same. He shook his head as if it would clear away the tangled mess writhing around inside it.

“Steve? Is everything okay?” Becca asked from her seat beside James. He could feel her watching him in his peripheral vision but couldn't make himself tear his gaze away from _Bucky!_ to look at her.

“Yes, I'm sorry, it's just you look so much like...” He blew out a breath and swiped a hand through his short blond hair, recently styled to fit in with this new world around him. James waited for the end of that sentence, at a loss, and Steve suddenly wished he could disappear into the floor.

Now that he was looking and not just _staring_ he noticed subtle differences in James' appearance than that of Bucky: his hair was long to his shoulders (how had he not noticed _that_?) and he had thick stubble on his jaw the likes of which Steve hadn't even seen on Bucky during the war. His shoulders were much broader than Bucky's had ever been, in fact, _all_ of James was broader; he looked like he could rival Steve in a fight if he wasn't enhanced with Erskine's serum. The face though... that Barnes chin and the ice blue eyes had passed, unchanged, right through the generations. He, too, must have inherited them from Bucky.

Because, logic demanded, this _wasn't_ Bucky, just his impossibly alike _great grandson_ who had no idea why Steve was gaping at him like he'd seen a ghost. Steve exhaled shakily, then turned to Wynn. “Your son?”

If granddaughter was tough enough to accept, he had no idea how he'd ever manage to associate Bucky with anything close to a great grandson!

“Yes.” She confirmed, and Steve suddenly realised why he'd felt so content around her before: she had the mothering air of Winifred Barnes about her, which would explain why he'd felt so at ease in the arms of a stranger. And just for a moment, Steve felt a jab of jealousy toward this _James_ for having someone like Wynn around to take care of him.

“Steve?” Becca called for his attention, watching him carefully. He looked round at her, trying to school his expression into something less than 'freaking the fuck out' but was doubtful he'd managed to succeed. “Is something wrong...?”

And suddenly the room closed in around him as he became painfully aware of all eyes on him, boring into him as though he was some sort of mythical animal that had just waltzed in off the street. His ears burned.

“No, nothing. I'm fine.” Steve tried to wave off their concern, failing spectacularly. Why had he previously thought leaving this house would be a bad thing...? Currently he'd welcome any excuse to disappear, and now that he'd torn his eyes off of Bucky – James – he physically couldn't make himself look back at him. He could practically feel James' discomfort flowing toward him in waves which only made his ears burn harder in shame.

“...So, dinner.” Becca stated suddenly, too-cheery and obviously trying to salvage the humiliating situation. Steve winced internally. He'd forgotten he'd agreed to dinner and cursed himself for doing so. Now he was going to be stuck here with this impossible, haunting vision of Bucky for hours! “James, could you run to the store for us? Pick up a chicken and some vegetables?”

Steve's mind grasped at the opportunity for escape and he blurted out at the same time James practically jumped to his feet, “I can do it!”

“Sure thing, Nana!”

The two men glanced at each other before Steve's entire body burned in embarrassment again. Had he really acted so creepily that James wanted a way out as desperately as he himself did? It appeared so. He looked down at his feet, fighting the instinct to scuff them against the carpet like a kid.

Becca laughed, though to Steve, who had known her almost all of his life, it sounded a little forced. “Well, how lovely. Two volunteers! Why don't you both go together and catch up a little? We've had Steve all to ourselves all afternoon, it's only fair we share.”

“Right.” Steve breathed, realising he'd kind of walked into that one, and he and James stood there awkwardly for a moment, avoiding each other's eyes. Becca just smiled sweetly at them, knowing they couldn't possibly say no to the wishes of an old lady without being the most horrible people in the world, then she fished out some money from the handbag at the side of the sofa and waved the bill in front of their faces.

“Remember: chicken and vegetables, and will you get me some of those mints I love?”

James nodded and stiffly took the money before he walked to the door, pausing to check if Steve was following. His heart was yelling at him to go – wherever Bucky went, Steve followed – but his head was saying that _this wasn't Bucky,_ and _this is completely insane!_ Why wasn't Becca reacting, didn't she recognize her own brother when she saw him?? Then he realized that to her, James was a great nephew (great _great_ nephew? It was difficult to keep track) and that Steve was the one over-reacting here.

Why did his windpipe feel like it was being wrapped around his throat and killing him slowly??

But he still had to suffer through this dinner one way or another, so it was probably best to try and do it with the least damage possible, he reasoned. Finally he followed James from the living room and down the hall, trying not to compare his swaying gait with Bucky's and failing.

(James' was heavier, more deliberate than Bucky's casual swing).

“That wasn't nice, Nana.” Wynn scolded, a distant voice from the room behind them, though she chuckled through her words.

“They'll be fine.” Becca insisted, but when James barely looked at Steve as he held open the front door for him, then hunched his shoulders like he wanted to melt into the garden path, Steve really, _really_ had to disagree.

  
  


 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, firstly I want to say that I somehow posted this story twice at the same time last time and I have no idea how I did that, but this version will be the one I update with the following chapters :P Secondly, I'm still not practiced in fluff but I hope you enjoy this chapter and seeing what happens on Steve and James' visit to the grocery store x) 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who is reading this story, giving me kudos and commenting, it means so much! x

 

When they reached the bottom of the path, Steve noticed James send an appreciative look toward his motorcycle parked at the sidewalk. Leaping at the chance to appear less like the creep he'd been inside the house, and to somehow patch up the gaping chasm of awkwardness between them, he sped up a little to catch up with him.

“We could take my bike?” He said, trying not to sound too hopeful when James stopped and turned around to look at him. He wore an impressed expression, until he seemed to remember that riding a motorcycle required two people in very close proximity to each other, at the very same moment Steve did. He cringed to himself.

“Uh, it's not very far to the store...”

Steve felt like a first class idiot – something that didn't seem to be going away since the moment he'd first set eyes on James. “Oh. Okay.”

He made to continue walking in the direction James had been heading, stuffing his hands into his pockets in the hopes of appearing casual, but James didn't move to go with him. Instead he gave the motorcycle a thoughtful, longing look before saying, “Let's take the bike.”

Steve stopped walking. “Okay.” He repeated, before digging out his helmet and passing it to James who took it without looking at him. The tiny embers of hope in his chest that things might become more normal between them died meekly. “Just tell me where to turn.” He said, settling onto the seat and holding the bike steady when James climbed on behind him.

“Should I – ?” He made an aborted movement to hold onto Steve.

“Sure.” When James' arms held on around his middle Steve decided this probably wasn't the best idea, but he revved the engine to life anyway and took off down the street.

The store, it turned out, was only three minutes away by motorcycle. Steve spent each of those minutes focusing on getting his act together, following James' directions and the strong press of his arms around his middle. He wouldn't have put it past the guy to snap him in half if he'd wanted, or to at least give it a good attempt. He was so built (and more than a little intimidating if Steve was honest with himself), but James just seemed to want to keep to himself which Steve accepted was better than an aggressive alternative.

They barely spoke inside the store itself, where Steve resigned himself to trailing after James like a lost puppy and carrying a lone chicken around like a kid with their worn ragdoll when James got the vegetables. It was only when they reached the confectionery isle that Steve interrupted after watching the guy gaze blankly at the wall of options for a while.

“These ones?” He suggested, stepping forward and plucking a familiar pack of mints from the shelf that he recognised from his own youth. Even then Becca had been crazy about them, and Steve couldn't help but smile to himself at her choosing them now, all these years later and with all the food in the world at her fingertips. He and James met eyes for the first time since they'd entered the building, and to Steve's utter surprise and _relief,_ James huffed out a little smile.

“Thanks. I can never remember which ones she likes. One time she actually made me come all the way back here just to get the right ones.”

“Y'know what? I'm pretty sure she made me do the same thing once.” Steve recalled from his childhood and, just like that, James chuckled, his ice blue eyes warming significantly. Even though they didn't speak again as they headed to the checkouts, that awful tension between them had definitely faded; Steve found himself watching James for any sign of regression, but when they met eyes once as he handed over Becca's money, James flashed him a quick closed-lipped smile that made Steve feel much better about the situation.

He was grateful as they headed through the parking lot toward the bike, and prayed the ride home wouldn't be as pained as the one here. But when he reached for his motorcycle, James spoke suddenly and stopped him in his tracks.

“I'm sorry.”

Steve's chest froze in dread, unsure what to expect but his mind supplied him with plenty of possibilities: did James not want to ride with him again? Would he rather walk ahead without Steve? Was this the moment he confronted Steve about his inappropriate ogling back in the house and told him where to go?

But when he turned to look at the man, the expression on his (oh-so familiar) face wasn't the one Steve had been expecting. Before he could say anything, James continued.

“I know it can't be easy with me here.” His broad shoulders were pulled up a little and his ice blue eyes were focused on Steve, filled with what he could only recognise as _guilt._

Steve opened his mouth to reply a few seconds before any sound came out. “What are you talking about?” He asked, drawing a blank as to what James was getting at. Clearly it wasn't anything Steve had been anticipating.

Sure enough, James broke eye contact first and ran an anxious hand through his thick dark locks. “I saw your face, when you looked at me before.” Steve's stomach plummeted like a boulder.

“I –”

“An' I'm just saying I'm sorry I freaked you out 'cause I look like him.” Steve's mouth was hanging open again as the words sunk in. James met his eyes, his guilt dissipating a little when he forced out a tiny laugh. “I mean, I don't see it but I've heard it enough times... I guess it must be true.”

Steve felt awful, witnessing James apologise for his appearance because _Steve_ had made him feel like he had to! He shook his head in denial, hating himself for his earlier show of disrespect more than he already had. “James, that's not –”

“Bullshit.” The man called him out and Steve's excuse stuttered and died in his throat. Then a knowing grin spread on James' handsome face and suddenly being with him wasn't as suffocating as it had been before. “Captain America's a liar, who knew?” A cheeky glint sparkled in his eyes.

Steve could only place his hands on his waist and sigh in defeat, the raw chicken dangling from a carrier bag around his wrist making everything seem a little absurd to him. “Alright, _yes,_ you surprised me, that's all. This morning I didn't even know Buck had a _kid_ and then you walked in and... yes, you're right, I freaked out but that's notyour fault. I'm sorry I made you feel that way.”

James listened patiently and a visible weight seemed to lift from his shoulders. Suddenly Steve wondered if it had been guilt, not hatred or discomfort, that had been clamming him up earlier. Both men watched each other in a slow silence, and Steve could already see so much more to this man than simply Bucky's face. He wanted to place an apologetic hand on James' arm, but he definitely didn't think they were ready for that.

The parking lot was practically deserted on this sleepy late afternoon, with very few cars and only a group of kids at the far end kicking around empty cans. Even so, Steve felt the need to lower his voice slightly.

“...And I'm sorry for all the... staring. That was just dumb and rude.” He added belatedly.

At that, the corner of James' mouth lifted into a curve. “Were you really best friends your whole lives?” He didn't need to say Bucky's name for them both to know who he was talking about.

Steve drew in a deep breath, as he tended to have to do whenever he spoke about his lost best friend, and tried to ignore the spike of pain at remembering. “Yeah. We were pretty much inseparable. Before...” He had to stop and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against his bike if just to have something to catch him if this conversation proved too much. In fact, it was already proving too much, but he figured he owed James some sort of explanation.

The man's expression turned to sympathy. “That must've been tough.”

Steve just nodded, unable to make himself say anything else about it aloud. He felt the prickling of tears threatening behind his eyes upon bringing up the painful past, but when he looked into James' face, with Bucky's strikingly handsome bone structure and those blue eyes that had always soothed him like a balm, suddenly he could breathe easier again. If only slightly. Steve's breath left him in a gust, making his predicament only too clear in front of James. “I miss him every second.” He admitted when he managed to get the lump in his throat under control.

James' lips twitched in sadness before he calmly said, “I'm sorry.”

“Me too. But it doesn't excuse my behaviour. I lost control before, it's on me, not you. It's just difficult, uh...” His voice failed him and James winced visibly, understanding what Steve was going to say. “But you have nothing to apologise for, James! It's my grief.” Steve insisted quickly, even as James began to wring his hands in front of him.

“Is there anything I can... y'know. Do? For you? To make it easier?” He asked awkwardly, and suddenly Steve felt his ears growing hot because all he wanted in the world was to be held by Bucky, be hugged tight and just be safe in his embrace one last time. Of course he knew that was impossible now, Bucky was _gone_ , but here James was, the perfect solution if even just for a moment so that Steve could _pretend._ Then his face flushed pink in shame because he was doing it again, comparing James to Bucky as if he wasn't a completely different person.

“I, uh, I don't think so...” Steve mumbled, even though it felt like turning away from a warm hearth, instead walking into a frozen pond and sinking under the ice.

“It's okay. Let me help?” When he threw James an assessing look, it became obvious that he knew what train of thought Steve had been on and that he didn't appear to be insulted. He just waited, arms slightly out to the sides in an almost subconscious gesture while he watched Steve in a mix of hopeful concern. Steve just watched him back, reluctant to move with the fear that he would be taking advantage of James' appearance for his own means. He could feel his heartbeat hammering in his chest.

Apparently he was failing drastically at keeping his thoughts from his face, as the next thing he knew, James gave him a warm, timid smile and stepped forward. “C'mon, man.” He said softly as he wrapped strong, powerful arms around Steve's back and held him as close and as tightly as he'd been yearning for.

Steve's breath hitched and caught in his throat, and then he couldn't stop himself from hugging James back and closing his eyes in bliss, revelling in the hug he thought he'd never receive again. James was just as warm as Bucky had been, though he was much larger and bulkier and felt as solid as a tree. He still held Steve so gently that it wouldn't have required any effort to just fall asleep against him or begin to purr like a cat.

When they finally parted (Steve had no way to tell how much or how little time had passed), James offered such a beautiful, warm smile that Steve found himself returning it, so easily and comfortably that he couldn't believe he'd ever been upset earlier. “Thanks.” He said bashfully, feeling all the better for the hug.

“No problem.” James replied. “Just glad I can help somehow.” And he looked like he meant it.

Steve could see the whole world in James' eyes, the past that he'd shared with Bucky but also the new, other life that James had lived without him, his own man. It was mesmerizing. Steve wasn't entirely sure what his own face was doing but his heart had seized the way it always used to do with Bucky, and he ignored the warning bells starting in his mind in favour of gazing at James' ( _Bucky's_ , Steve's mind unhelpfully supplied) face before the moment was over and he lost his chance forever; the unfamiliar hair tumbling gloriously down to his shoulders in thick, black waves, the smooth cleft in his chin, the plush shape of his lips... Steve's breath caught when _Bucky's_ eyes softly roamed over his face in return, looking him over in a way that made Steve feel truly seen. In a way he'd never been looked at before.

For a moment it was like time stopped between them. He'd never lived this moment except for in his dreams, committing the face he loved more than the world itself to his memory so he'd never forget, and when Bucky slowly closed the distance between their faces and captured Steve's mouth in a kiss, it felt the most natural thing in the world to just let it happen. It was a warm press of lips, not pushing for more, just a soft, gentle comfort to make the scene building around them finally complete.

But the moment they touched a jolt shot through Steve's body like lightning, more a douse of cold water than desire, when he remembered where he really was and who he was really with, and he froze in shock as their little bubble of perfection popped.

Against his lips, he felt James stiffen before he pulled back and stared at Steve with wide, horrified eyes.

Steve thought he looked the same in return. “Uh...”

“Oh God, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to – I thought –” James stuttered before taking a good step back and putting some space between them. He ran his hands through his hair again, flustered and obviously embarrassed. Steve couldn't find his voice to interrupt. “I don't know why I did that, God it was stupid, fuck –” He dragged a hand down his face and stared at Steve over his fingers before he went back to toying with his hair again as he continued to ramble.

Steve, meanwhile, was trying to get his fuzzy brain to go over what had happened while his lips tingled where James' had been moments before. He shook his head to clear it, coming out of the spell he'd fallen under and back to the real world. _James had kissed him!_ And Steve was not alright with the way that knowledge was threatening to make butterflies burst into life in his chest. And then came the crushing grief that he quickly tucked away before it could overwhelm him.

James was not Bucky. He was Bucky's _great grandson_ and what the hell was Steve _doing_ letting his old emotions get the better of him?! It was just that James looked _so like_ Bucky, and for a moment he felt as though it had been his best friend just inches away from his face – _kissing him –_ until that age-old voice reminding him never to let his truest, deepest feelings show returned full-force from retirement and snapped him out of the moment.

James was now covering his entire face and groaning, muffled, into his palms. “Did I really just plant one on Captain America?”

“James, it's okay, really...” Steve tried weakly but was unsure whether or not James heard him.

“Fuck my life.” He drawled then finally dropped his hands to grimace at Steve.

He looked worried and flustered and embarrassed, and he'd managed to turn his hair into a big unruly mess by toying with it so much. Looking at him now, Steve could hardly believe he'd actually been _afraid_ of the man today, he just looked so human and hopeless. He schooled his (still reeling) expression into one as innocent as he could manage and willed the lingering tingle of his lips to _just go away already!_

It had been his first kiss with a man, and that man had just so happened to look like the only man Steve had ever wanted to kiss, and a part of him couldn't believe it had actually happened. He still felt a little shell-shocked and his common sense didn't seem to want to accept the fact that just because James looked like Bucky it hadn't meant he'd finally got his lifetime's wish!

Then, he wondered, how could James have just kissed another man like that, like it was no big deal? They were practically strangers. Did he do so on an everyday basis? Or, oh God, had Steve been so obvious...? James seemed to be taking his disbelief for something else entirely.

“You're not gonna 'sock me in the jaw' or something are you?” He asked, a little more seriously than he'd probably intended. Something about the hesitance in James made Steve seriously relate to the guy: he was worried about Steve's reaction, and that suddenly made everything settle back into perspective for him.

He probably hadn't seen anything in Steve's eyes that betrayed the truth of his feelings for his dead best friend, it probably _was_ just a mistake in the moment. Men and women did that all the time with each other didn't they? Sharing a vulnerable moment, one thing leading to another when it didn't have to mean anything? Was this really so different...? Still, Steve's lips couldn't forget the foreign contact, damn them. His heart was still fluttering in his chest like a caged bird trying to get free.

“Um, no, I'm not going to do that.” He said, attempting to sound normal and put the man out of his misery. James breathed out audibly and Steve offered him a little smile, hoping to appear less like the thug about to beat someone up than the guy had apparently expected.

“I appreciate that, thanks. Will you at least accept an apology? I feel like such an ass right now, I totally took advantage and I didn't mean to do that...”

Steve blinked, seeing the young, modern man before him suddenly more clearly: he was so beautiful and innocent (or at least, not war-weary), and right now nervous because of _Steve,_ and though he was practically identical to Bucky, James couldn't have felt more different. Bucky had never been afraid of Steve, he'd never had any cause to be, but to James (who was so young, but maybe that was all of Steve's years in the ice talking?), Steve realised, he was Captain America: the Patriotic Symbol of American Justice. He winced a little at that thought.

But then again, James had known Steve had been at odds with the world this afternoon and had been kind, understanding and had comforted him. There was nobody else he'd met in this century who had done such a thing, except of course for Becca, but she was practically family.

Steve resolutely did _not_ grimace internally at the thought of what that would make James, and then deny he'd ever had the fleeting thought in the first place.

“And then I made things weird by kissing you, shit _I actually did that,_ and –”

Steve interrupted before James could lose himself rambling again. “Call us even?” He said quickly, hopefully. James shut up immediately and blinked at Steve with his big, blue eyes.

“What for?” He asked, seemingly genuinely lost.

“The, uh, the stalker staring?” Steve dug his hands into his pockets, wishing that could be forgotten forever and never spoken of again as long as he lived. James only just seemed to remember it in the first place.

“Oh, right, that. Well yeah, sure.” He looked a little surprised and still very embarrassed, which Steve could sympathise with all too much.

“We're even?” He held out his hand to make peace.

“We're even.” James sounded grateful as he shook Steve's hand, and then they were both just grinning in relief that this difficult afternoon would finally be behind them. When they let go, Steve felt like the sun had just emerged from the darkest cloud and brightened the evening ahead of him. “So we're cool?”

Steve tried to suppress the way it made him feel both lucky and happy to be on 'cool' terms with James. Maybe they could be friends after all? He hoped so.

“Yeah.” He said with a nod, then turned toward his motorbike and fumbled about with his carrier bag. “We'd best get the groceries back. They'll be wondering what happened to us.” He said as he loaded the chicken into the storage box on the back. James began digging around in his own carrier bag for a moment before procuring the bag of mints and ripping it open. He popped one into his mouth and offered the packet to Steve, another peace offering. “Becca will kill us.” Steve said warningly, even as he took one for himself anyway.

As James stowed his carrier bag in the box, he asked slowly, “...you're not gonna... tell her, are you? What happened here?”

Steve laughed so loudly and unexpectedly at the look of dread on James' face that he startled the teenagers across the parking lot. “Definitely not. I think there'd be an ironic comeback in there somewhere about kissing boys.” He said as he climbed back onto the bike, trying not to flush that he'd _kissed a boy_ now. Don't be so pathetic, Steve chided himself, but still that tingle flared on his lips once more, even when he tried to stamp down on the accompanying butterflies.

It was just his residual feelings clinging to the memory of Bucky, he told himself sternly. Let it go.

When he handed James the helmet, he took it and wrinkled his nose at Steve's words. “Do I wanna know what you spoke about with my Nana...?”

Steve chuckled as he revved the engine. “Your mother asked me to tell some embarrassing childhood stories of her at dinner. You'd better prepare yourself, 'cause it's gonna get ugly.” They laughed and then the motorcycle jostled under him upon James' added weight. His skin felt electric being so close to the man, and he couldn't help but be thrown back to that intimate bubble they'd shared and wonder if he'd been the only one who'd felt it. Then he cringed and shooed it from his mind, because Steve was _absolutely not_ going to go there with the grandkid of the man he'd loved and never had.

Those powerful arms appeared around his stomach again, and when James leaned forward to speak over the roar of the exhaust, his long, soft hair tickled Steve's ear.

“Hey, you're alright. I mean, y'know...” He grinned cheekily, and Steve found that his own lips betrayed him by copying the gesture, even as he refused to meet James' eyes.

“For an old guy?” He finished, revving the engine loudly if just to prove a point. He could be 'hip' sometimes, if he wanted to be...

“Not what I said.”

“It's what you were thinking.”

“You don't know that.”

“Then what were you thinking?” Steve turned his head this time to address James directly, trying and failing to ignore the swoop their sudden proximity caused in his stomach. Now, that luscious dark hair trailed against his cheek and he could feel James' minty breath on his face. The guy's grin grew wider.

Steve had the feeling James was toying with him, the old grandpa that he was, but it just made him glow in a simmering joy over something he hadn't even noticed he'd missed: engaging in playful banter with someone who saw him more than simply a 'Captain'. He also had the feeling that James' face was closer than was strictly necessary, but then again he'd kissed Steve like it was nothing, so perhaps he didn't even notice he was doing it. Like it was second nature for him, having grown up in the modern world where the same old rules didn't apply.

Steve decided he liked not staying at arms length the way he had been with everybody else since the ice, and allowed his body to relax into the bike and James' hold.

“That you own a decent motorbike. That instantly makes you cool.” The man said, with that stunning grin still on his face.

Steve schooled all emotion from his expression, and turned back to the handlebars to hide his pleased smile and prepare to set off back to Becca's house. “Not that cool: put your helmet on.”

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! x


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who is leaving me comments and kudos! It makes me so happy that you guys are liking the story :D I also want to say that my huge, post-Civil War, Infinity War AU fic is almost here! :D If anyone is interested in reading it please keep an eye on my account over the next few days – you'll know it when you see it xP
> 
> Okay, so back to Steve and James in chapter 3!

 

Dinner was a fairly straightforward affair, something Steve cherished deeply now that he had the chance to act like a part of a normal family again. He hadn't realised how much he'd missed swapping silly stories and laughing with people who were interested in what he had to say, not just his uniform or his shield. It was only now, surrounded by Becca, Wynn and James, that Steve realised just how withdrawn from the world he'd become in the 21st Century.

And it was only now, sharing sneaky glances and sad smiles with James at his side whenever the topic danced toward Bucky, that Steve realised he'd sorely missed having a _friend._ He'd been so preoccupied with losing the only one he'd had that he'd never even entertained the idea of finding another, someone who knew something personal about him and that he could roll his eyes with when the moment presented itself (especially when the moment involved Becca ticking them off for opening her mints without her).

Perhaps he and James weren't exactly 'friends' yet. After all they had only met a few hours earlier, but to Steve it felt like they were now something more than simply 'acquaintances'. Not to mention their kiss, a secret shared between just the two of them, which he thought stood for something in the way of progress from that awful awkwardness they'd started with. Though they didn't mention it again, Steve didn't think he could forget the feel of another man's lips against his own, especially when James continued to frequently lick gravy off of his particularly plush ones.

But that wasn't important, Steve told himself. He found himself wishing dinner would never end, but also excited for it to be over so that he could speak to James again – just the two of them. Because even though Wynn seemed to be a lovely lady, she was still James' mother, and he couldn't help but feel the need to keep up polite appearances in her presence the way he didn't quite have to with James. She really did remind him of Bucky's mother, Winifred Barnes.

It just felt nice to speak to someone his own age again, even if he and James were from two entirely different generations, and Steve of course adored Becca as much as ever. The thing was, she might have still been the same girl he'd known as a baby, but she had lived 70 years more than him and he could feel it in her, in the hindsight and wisdom that could only come from age. With James beside him, Steve hadn't felt as young since before the war, and for a moment he wondered if he could just be a young man in his 20s again instead of the 90 year old American Symbol he'd began to believe he was now.

There were obvious differences between he and James (a whole conversation about technology and computer games went right over his head, since Steve still struggled with simply trying to answer his cell phone), and he just nodded along to most of the pop culture references in the hope he looked casual, not having the heart to interrupt every few seconds, but when it came down to it James was a healthy, happy young man and spending time with him made Steve feel better than he had in a very long time.

Just being in his presence felt like James was somehow cutting away some of the grief, guilt and regret that hung over Steve like a cloud, absorbing it like a sponge to leave Steve cleaner and lighter than ever. And that, he knew instinctively, sincerely had nothing to do with his Bucky-like appearance.

Steve was leaning his chin sleepily on his palm while his body thanked him for the glorious meal, soaking in the loving domestic aura that encompassed the dining room. He smiled warmly to himself as he watched James so at ease with his family around him, chattering away about architecture and sunshine and nature, and he only realised the subjects were connected an embarrassingly long while into the conversation.

“Wait, you're a gardener?” He blurted stupidly, impressed and more than a little fond of the image that presented itself in his mind of James, burly and muscled with his long rocker hair, lovingly tending to the garden with a surprisingly gentle hand.

James rounded those ice blue eyes on him and smiled in amusement, giving Steve the feeling he'd got the wrong end of the stick somehow. Maybe he'd been paying more attention to James himself than his words, he realised belatedly. He was about to apologise, but the man didn't look annoyed as he brought Steve up to speed.

“Sorta. When someone designs the garden, I'm the guy who steps in and puts it all together. Well, one of the guys anyway, usually there's a team for the bigger projects.” He smiled wider at Steve's nod of understanding, and Steve pretended not to feel the flip in his stomach at the way James' dark hair tumbled beside his pretty face and framed him like a photograph. He surprised himself with the feeling of admiration for those long locks, and the itch in his fingers to feel its silky texture for himself.

 _Not happening,_ he reminded himself, and shooed away any inappropriate thoughts about Bucky's great grandson's beautiful hair, or his beautiful face, or his beautiful personality that came shining through with every word he spoke.

“That sounds like a lot of hard work. I'm impressed.” Steve said with a smile.

“James is going to do my back yard for me, aren't you, dear?” Becca said proudly, and James appeared to be a little embarrassed by that. He looked down at his plate and chased around the last few peas there with his fork, hiding a tiny smile.

“He's been wanting to branch out on his own and do it all by himself for a while now, from start to finish, and Nana can't really get out there to tend to her garden nowadays so she offered it up to James' capable hands.” Wynn informed Steve, a mother obviously proud of her son's abilities.

“It won't be _all_ by myself, at least not if you want it finished by the end of summer.” James informed her, and the way he said it made it clear this wasn't the first time he'd explained himself.

“What are you going to do?” Steve asked, intrigued by the twinkle in James' eyes as he spoke about what was clearly a passion of his.

“I'm not sure yet, I'm still working on the plans. It's difficult to decide when everything rests solely on _you,_ especially when you're deciding what looks best for someone else.”

“I know what you mean. I used to fret so much over commissions than when I just worked for myself. Every detail had to be perfect.” Steve agreed readily, and James raised his eyebrows as a wide smile caught his mouth.

“Commissions, like art?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I didn't know you were an artist!” James said enthusiastically, shifting in his seat to better face Steve. Then Wynn tsked at him and stole his attention away again.

“Oh, yes you did. You've heard those stories before.” She gave James a mothering look, one that told him to behave himself and mind his manners in the company of a guest. Steve grinned to himself when she looked just like Mrs Barnes had used to when ticking off he and Bucky around the dinner table as kids.

It was strange, the thought of James being raised on stories of Steve's childhood – all just a part of the family history. He wondered how much had been relayed through the years.

“Yeah, but I didn't know it was serious art.” James defended himself, and turned back to beam at Steve. “That's pretty neat, Steve.”

“I'll show you sometime.” He offered, feeling a little swept up with pride at James' admiration and embarrassed at the same time. He, too, noticed he'd missed a few tiny scraps on his plate and resisted the urge to play around with them to busy his hands.

“Sure. Or...”

Steve looked up in question, watching as the man chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully. “Or what?” He asked, trying not to stare.

 _Not. Happening._ He scolded himself again harshly, even as he licked his own lips subconsciously.

“Well, I was gonna ask some guys I work with if they could come and help out with the heavy stuff, but... no, forget it. I know you're way too busy saving the world –”

“No I'm not.” Steve's heart leapt at the opportunity to spend more time with James. “Work has been kinda slow at the moment, I think we're still all out of aliens after Manhattan...” He said, as matching tentative smiles appeared on both his and James' faces. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well... you _are_ an artist. These plans are killin' me, I just can't seem to get them right. And then there's the manual work... I just thought 'Captain America could probably do the work of three guys in half the time', but obviously you don't have to spend your summer working in the dirt with me...”

James shook his head at himself as though the idea was ludicrous, but actually, Steve couldn't think of anything better in that moment. Besides, work really had been slow lately and the last thing he'd been looking forward to was a long summer ahead of him, full of empty days and hollow nights of nothing but being reminded of how alone he was.

“Actually, that sounds like it could be fun.” He said, going for casual interest, while a part of him bubbled hopefully at the prospect of keeping himself busy with something productive. And doing so with James, for Becca, definitely wouldn't be a bad thing.

James studied him doubtfully for a minute. “You really wanna help me turn Nana's back yard into a masterpiece of nature?”

“Artist, remember.” Steve grinned, and James mirrored it back to him.

“Huh. I didn't think you'd actually agree.”

“Do you want my help or not?” Steve pretended there was a chance in hell he was taking back his offer, and watched as James' eyes flickered over his face, as if he was working him out.

“I'd sure appreciate it, Cap. Thanks.” He said finally, finishing it off by flashing a grin akin to a man who just got his way and couldn't believe it. Steve half expected a wink to follow it up, and wondered to himself if James was flirting with him or if he was so out of practice that he was mistaking innocence for interest. After all, the man was of this new modern world and had already made his ignorance of personal boundaries known, so Steve couldn't really be sure if it was flirting or if it was just James.

But then the guy looked over his features again, lingering slightly this time, and Steve was glad of the interruption when Becca spoke up from the other side of the table before it could go on too long.

“That's very good of you to help out, Steve, thank you.” She reached over and held Steve's hand in thanks. The gesture touched him deeply, somehow, more than he'd have expected, and Steve could only smile at her in adoration. It seemed he was still wrapped around her finger, and had been since the moment she'd been born. Then Becca added with a smirk, “But I remember what happened when you attempted to 'help' the neighbours with their yard, so you'd best do as James tells you and don't let your creativity run away with you this time, okay?”

Steve gaped at her in surprise and horror. He might have known she'd get him back for spilling all of her embarrassing stories earlier, and the glint of mischief in Becca's eye was confirmation enough.

She turned to James and Wynn. “Did I ever tell you about the time Steve and Bucky peed on the neighbour's flowers and got chased down the street with their shorts around their knees...?”

James burst out laughing so hard that he choked, and Steve glared at Becca who didn't even attempt to hide her own laughter. He could feel his face heating up, too mortified even to feel the stab at the mention of Bucky's name.

“Alright,” Steve tried, attempting to stop her before she could get started, but Becca ignored him by following up with some rather creative descriptions that made James laugh even harder.

“Let's clear these dishes up before Nana gets carried away, shall we?” Wynn stood up and cut Becca off before she could really tear into Steve's childhood history. Thank God for Wynn, Steve thought gratefully, and he stood up too to help her clear the table. “Oh no, Steve, you don't need to help –”

“Just save me.” He begged, and Wynn pursed her lips around a smile as she nodded and led the way into the kitchen. James and Becca continued to snort with laughter behind them.

I guess I deserve that, Steve thought, even as he cringed and tried to hide himself behind the plates in his hands, secretly snickering to himself at the memory.

  


~ ~ ~ ~

  


After dinner, Becca decided to embarrass Steve through less cruel means: playing a game called Mario Kart. Steve had never heard of it, never even touched a computer game before in his life, but he'd wanted a chance to get Becca back for earlier and reclaim some of his somewhat respectable reputation in the house. If she could play it, surely he could easily pick it up too, right?

His plan failed spectacularly.

“It's called a Wii, Steve. It's a completely different console.” She had informed him simply when he'd made the mistake of asking about the computer. Steve had watched James set the thing up, and figure out what looked like a highly complex process so easily he probably could have done it in his sleep.

Already, Steve had started to regret his decision to interact with new technology, but then Becca had launched them both into a world of rainbow roads and toadstools driving cars and it had taken all of his attention just to attempt to keep up with what was happening. By the time he'd started to come to grips with the plastic steering wheel and which little cartoon character he was supposed to be controlling, Becca had left him far behind in the dirt.

It felt like waking up from a hallucinogenic dream when he tore his wide eyes from the TV screen and stared at James and Wynn at a complete loss. What the hell had he just witnessed?!

James just rolled his eyes with a smile while Becca whooped and settled in for another game beside him. They were all sitting in a row on the couch in the living room, each holding a floating fake steering wheel, and Steve came to the realisation that he had seriously underestimated his opponent. He felt like he should have seen that coming from a mile away.

James, seeing his expression, leaned in close to Steve's ear. “Don't feel bad, she's been playing this game for years just so she can kick everyone else's ass.” He huffed a little laugh and Steve could feel the man's long hair tickling his cheek again. He sucked in a deep breath, and when he let it out his determination came roaring back.

“I wanna go again.” He stated, turning back to narrow his eyes at his tiny pink princess on the TV screen. He could feel James smiling at him, which only fuelled his decision to lean around him and raise a challenging eyebrow at Becca along the sofa. “You ready?”

She smirked back at him, and Steve could only see the young girl who'd used to challenge him to every game she could think of when they were kids. He smiled, starting to think that he could understand why modern people found these computer games so addictive...

By the time they decided to call it quits, Steve had progressed through the ranks from 'always last' to 'sometimes not coming in last', and once he'd even managed to beat Wynn! He was feeling very proud of himself, even when Becca insisted that Wynn was the worst player in the family, at least until Steve had joined in. The day had turned into night, and outside was now a deep black in contrast to the warm honeyed colours of Becca's house.

Steve didn't want to leave, but he knew if he stayed any longer then leaving would only become harder. He hugged Becca as tightly as he dared, breathing in the smell of her and the best afternoon he'd had in years.

“Thanks so much for having me here, Bec. It was really great to see you.” He said into her silver hair, planting a kiss there too for good measure.

“You too, Stevie. I hope I didn't bruise your ego too much tonight...” She joked as they parted, and Steve just laughed and shrugged his shoulders.

“I'll get over it. I should've known you'd grow into as capable a woman as you were a young girl.”

Becca nodded in agreement, then gave in and kissed Steve warmly on the cheek in farewell before she handed him a tupperware box with the leftover sandwiches from this afternoon. Steve could hardly put into words how much he loved her for that.

Wynn gave him the same treatment and Steve revelled in her hug the way he had the first time, finding it just as difficult to pull away from her as from Becca.

Then he turned to James.

Steve hovered, unsure what he was supposed to do now. He knew what he _wanted_ to do: wrap James up in a monster hug too, but then he knew he'd _never_ be able to leave. Thankfully, his predicament was solved for him when James said his goodbyes to Becca and Wynn also.

“Have a safe journey home, and let me know when you get in.” Wynn said as she fussed with James' hair, brushing it off his face for him.

James swatted her away. “Mom, I'm not travelling the world, I'll be fine.” Wynn gave him a sharp disapproving look to rival that of the original Winifred.

Steve stepped closer to them, sliding on his jacket. “Where are you headed? I could give you a ride?” He tried not to get his hopes up too much at the way James' eyes lit up.

“On that death trap?” Wynn turned her stare on Steve, who almost felt himself pale like he'd committed a crime before she corrected herself. “I'm sorry, Steve, I know you'll be a perfectly safe driver, but my son doesn't have superhuman regeneration like you do if something were to happen –”

“It's fine, he's way safer than the subway. Who better to look after your loved ones than Captain America, right?” James said quickly and then his hands were on Steve's back, startling him slightly. Then he realised James was ushering him toward the door and impressively managing to shift Steve's super soldier weight. Steve was too distracted to do anything more than smile weakly in apology to Wynn before James pushed him through the door and they scurried toward the motorcycle still parked where they'd left it.

The night was chilly after the warmth of the day and Becca's house, and Steve paused after stowing his sandwiches away in the bike's storage box and handing James his helmet just to take in the view of the dark, peaceful street. He felt like a different person than when he'd arrived here, as though he'd found lost pieces of himself he hadn't noticed he'd dropped along the way. It was difficult to believe that he'd been terrified of seeing Becca again, and that just earlier that day Steve had still been carrying that gaping space inside of him that Bucky used to fill.

It still burned around the edges, but when Steve looked over at James and watched him slip on the helmet and then smile at him through the visor, the knowledge that he didn't have Bucky anymore but that he wasn't truly _alone_ either made it easy to smile back.

Steve didn't ever think that wound would truly heal, but perhaps it would get easier after all? He hadn't had the strength to even consider it before tonight, but now... he felt a glimmer of hope for the future.

“So where _are_ you headed?” He asked as he climbed on the bike and James took his spot behind him, arms wrapping around Steve's middle like they'd never left.

“Brooklyn.” James' muffled reply came, and Steve sighed wryly at the irony of fate before he kicked the bike into gear.

“Hold on tight.”

  


~ ~ ~ ~

  


The motorcycle growled to a stop outside a nondescript block of apartments, all of them practically identical from the outside. When the engine cut out, Steve and James just sat where they were a few seconds longer, listening to the sounds of Brooklyn at night while pressed together atop the bike. Steve felt exhilarated after the ride – it always thrilled him to cruise through the streets on his motorcycle – and gave himself time to get used to the fact that they'd stopped and that the best evening of his new life was almost over.

He turned his head toward James. “This you?” Something about the sudden decrease in volume after the engine made his voice come out almost as a whisper.

“Yeah.” James whispered back, and then they both pulled away and climbed off the bike. Steve was aware of the draught that blew up his jacket where James had kept him warm on the ride over here, but just accepted the helmet when he was handed it back. “You don't have to walk me to the door, y'know.”

When he met James' eyes, they were watching him with amusement and made Steve feel suddenly naked. He hadn't even realised he was _going to_ walk James to his door, and figured he was probably really showing his age now.

“Your mother wouldn't be too pleased with me if I didn't.” He said instead, and showed no sign of second guessing himself as he followed James up the stone steps toward the main door to the building. To his relief, the guy just laughed in agreement and put up no argument.

When they reached the top of the stairs all too soon, Steve didn't know what to do with himself. It was that same predicament as in Becca's house – how did he say goodbye to the man who he'd already kissed? Was a hug too much? Was a handshake too little? He smiled nervously at James, who seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

The man jabbed a thumb over his shoulder toward the door. “I'd invite you up for a bit, but I think I already made a move on you today and now I don't want you to get the wrong idea.” He chuckled self-deprecatingly at himself, running a hand through his gloriously thick mane as he did so.

Steve laughed at the aforementioned incident, relieved they could joke about it without things becoming weird. “Don't worry about it, James, really.” Steve might never forget their kiss, but James didn't have to _know_ that. And he definitely didn't want to make the man feel embarrassed.

James' jokey expression fell into one of deep thought, with a little line between dark brows as he studied Steve. It wasn't like it had been in the parking lot of the grocery store (charged, heated and intimate, at least for Steve), but instead James seemed to be pondering something with a lot of concentration. Again, Steve felt like he'd been stripped bare, like this man could see all of his secrets.

“What?” He asked, unsure whether or not he wanted to know.

James' face let up slightly but he still looked mostly serious, with a soft touch of concern to his features instead of the bright smile Steve had grown used to seeing today. He seemed to finally decide on his words before he said gently, right out into the open, “You weren't together, were you?”

Steve felt like his whole body had been dunked into the arctic ocean and turned into a block of ice again. His tongue fumbled with unspoken words (“What?” “Who?” “I have no idea what you're talking about!”) as James continued to watch him with more sympathy leaking into his expression with every second Steve stood frozen. Finally he decided there was no point in playing dumb and settled on a stiff, “Um, no, we weren't.”

James nodded in understanding. Still, with that look of _sympathy_ on his face, like the thought of it wasn't something shocking or betraying the image of Captain America! Steve just stared, the feeling slowly coming back into his limbs and stirring confusion in him instead.

“I'm sorry.” James shook himself. “It's none of my business. I _know_ that – you don't owe me any explanation.” As he made to step back toward the door, Steve found himself following before he decided he even wanted to. James paused, clearly waiting for Steve to say something, and in the seconds that followed he could feel his heartbeat thumping all the way down to his toes.

“You, uh –” He was curious, he knew he'd be better leaving it alone, but he wanted to know. “Why would you think that? That we ever were?” Steve shoved his hands into his pockets to stop them shaking, and he felt like he was on the verge of something he'd never been before. When James offered him a kind, playful smile, the one he'd given freely all evening, Steve wasn't sure if he wanted to come back from the edge.

“The way you were looking at me. At him. Before.” James said. Steve swallowed around his swollen tongue as the man looked into his soul so easily. “That's why I...”

_Kissed you._

So Steve _had_ been careless with protecting his feelings after all. Goddammit.

James ran a hand through his hair again, swooshing it off his face nervously, then he sent a tiny flicker of a smile that somehow still managed to reach his eyes. “I thought you wanted me to.” He explained.

Steve felt like he sucked in his first breath in minutes, and in doing so managed to unlock some of the cold fear still clinging to his bones; seeing James standing before him, laying himself bare and being so honest, suddenly it took no effort at all to fall over that metaphorical chasm he'd been avoiding his entire life.

“You're not wrong.” He had no idea what had finally made him say it outside of his own head, and Steve had to look down at his hands as he did so. He picked at a fingernail as his heart thumped like mad against his chest in the aftermath.

“What?” James asked gently, coaxing Steve to explain.

He sighed heavily, rubbing his palms together as an excuse not to look up just yet. “We were never like that, but... that doesn't mean... I...” His voice died in his throat, but Steve was amazed he had even managed to get that much out in the first place.

He sniffed and made himself meet James' eyes again, forcing the best (but transparent, nevertheless) smile he could muster onto his face. The man before him was watching him patiently with those gorgeous blue eyes, and there was no hint of any negativity about him whatsoever upon Steve's admission. It made Steve laugh, suddenly, hollowly, but it was laughter all the same.

Now that he'd let slip a little bit of his secret heart into the open, he felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders and the relief itself was crippling.

“I've never told anyone that before...” Steve wiped at his nose, suddenly horrified in case he'd started crying on James' doorstep, but his eyes were dry. Remarkably. James smiled at Steve's weak laughter, his red lips stretching into a wonderful tilt.

“You didn't really tell me anything, Steve. Just a few broken words.” He said kindly, teasingly, and somehow it made Steve sag in relief the way he feared sincere comfort wouldn't have. James ducked to keep their eye contact when Steve bowed his head, still laughing quietly to himself, but the man's gaze was magnetic and Steve couldn't resist. He peeked up at him again despite himself.

James' hands appeared on his body again, this time just a press on his shoulders to show solidarity, support, before the men took a few steps back from each other and the air around them returned back to normal. Steve was suddenly able to hear the night time sounds again that had been drowned out by the blood rushing in his ears and James' understanding smile: it washed over him so warmly and he knew that the guy understood even what hadn't been said aloud, and that it was now just another secret, unspoken even between the two of them, but it was still there.

It was progress for now – more progress than he'd made in 90 years, Steve realised – so he figured he could do it slowly until the day he found the courage to release the truth for real, like a proper grown-up. He was unsure whether he should feel giddy or terrified by what he'd just done, but allowed himself to ride the high of disbelief for now.

“So, when do you want me to look over those garden renovation plans for you?” He attempted to change the subject, glad to put a lid back over all of his swirling, unkempt emotions that came with the memory of Bucky. He breathed easier again and felt the last of the tension in his muscles leave him.

“Just whenever you get a chance? Here, take my number.” James reached into his jeans pocket while Steve stared at him in confusion.

“Your phone number?” He clarified, and James laughed at him unabashedly as he pulled out his cell phone.

“Well not my social security number.” He quipped as Steve crossed his arms over his chest and gave him an utterly unimpressed expression. James waited for a few seconds before prompting, “Do you have a cell phone?”

“Oh, yeah.” Steve patted himself down as he searched for the little device, still not used to having to carry it with him everywhere. “I still don't really know how to use it. There are a lot of buttons...” He made his excuses as he finally fished it out of his jacket and frowned down at the blank screen. He fiddled with it for a while before finally finding the 'on' button, willing his ears not to burn in embarrassment.

James glanced at him as if he thought Steve was joking, then bit back the laugh that followed when he realised he was being deadly serious. Steve appreciated that he tried, at least. “Think of it kinda like a typewriter, with the typing and stuff...” He moved around so that they could both see the screen, then paused and looked up to meet Steve's eyes. “You guys had typewriters back then, right?”

Now it was Steve's turn to hold back his amusement. “Sure, yeah, we also had _electricity_ if you can believe it...”

“Shuddup and give me the damn phone.”

He was grateful to hand it over into James' awaiting palm where the guy tapped at the screen like an expert, dazzling Steve with the speed of it as he navigated the little device.

“Hmm. You should really have a password, that way nobody can access it but you.” He told him off distractedly as he pressed the 'contacts' icon.

Steve grimaced. “Like I said, a lot of buttons...” James stopped tapping and just stared at the screen for a few seconds before he looked at Steve questioningly and held up the phone for him to read.

It was Steve's lone single contact, the name 'PRESS GREEN BUTTON' glaring at him from the screen.

Steve flushed. “It's instructions, so I remember how to answer the call...” He defended himself while James just shook his head and resumed his mad typing.

“You're a dork.”

“...thank you?” He tried, and James just smiled to himself so Steve decided it couldn't be such a bad thing and let him off with it.

He didn't see what the problem was: the only people who ever got in touch with him through his phone was SHIELD. He didn't even have the Avengers themselves on there. After the first few times he'd been unable to work out how to answer the phone in time and had been seriously told off for it, he'd overcome the problem. So far it was working well for him.

James handed the phone back, obviously using a lot of effort to refrain from laughing at him again. “Now, what button do you press if I call...?” He asked slowly and Steve snatched back the phone.

“Yeah yeah, I get it...”

James grinned, and Steve was reminded of that feeling of having a friend again that had suddenly hit him back at the dinner table. Now that they even had each other's phone numbers, he decided that it made James his first friend in the 21st Century after all, and could only smile back at the guy and feel so overwhelmingly grateful for meeting him.

“But nobody actually calls anyone now, it's all instant messages. You now how to text yet?”

Steve eyed him dubiously. “You're still teasing me aren't you?”

James just shook his head again, smiling to himself like Steve was still a 'dork'. “No, I'm really not. Look, I'll show you.” He beckoned for the cell phone again and made Steve hand it back over.

By the time they'd finished with the overly-complicated device and Steve had stuffed it away in his jacket to be forgotten about later, his head was spinning with the information he had to remember after James' demonstration. He'd texted himself from Steve's phone, so at least he didn't have to worry about setting up their conversation all by himself, and had shown Steve how to write a 'text' to him and use the keypad that was, actually, not unlike a mini typewriter. Then he'd slapped a hand to his forehead at the way Steve had taken his turn and texted with his first finger instead of his thumbs, and insisted that he learn 'the right way' or not bother at all.

Steve felt like a true grandpa after that, lost and drowning in all this modern technology (working out the cell phone, texting, Mario Kart...), until James took pity on him and told him to go home before he fainted. Steve gave him another unimpressed look before he turned and descended the steps back down to the sidewalk while James' keys jingled by the door behind him. Secretly he found that he didn't even mind that he was a newbie with the phone, since it had bought him more time with his new friend.

When Steve swung his leg over his motorcycle and looked back up at James, the man was waiting by the open door with that warm smile on his face again. And only then did Steve realise he hadn't really given him a proper goodbye (or had to fret again over whether or not to hug him), so he simply raised his hand in a wave.

“You go and... text... your mother, okay.” The word felt new in his mouth and he might have been saying it wrong, but it made James smile wider so Steve didn't mind. “Tell her I didn't get you killed on the way home.” The engine revved to life beneath him.

“Okay, Gramps.” James shouted back and Steve smiled to himself all the way back home, reciting his new instructions over and over in his head so that he wouldn't forget.

He waited as long as he could, feeling like he was trying to resist a delicious pudding that he was carrying around in his pocket and eventually took to bed with him. Finally, once settled under the duvet and blinking against the harsh glare from the screen, Steve put his new skills to good use and sent his first ever text.

**Message sent to James:**

_wheresthespacebutton_

He only needed to wait a few seconds before James' unhelpful reply came through, and almost jumped out of his skin in the process when his cell phone buzzed in his hand.

**Message received from James:**

_xD_

Steve frowned at that text for the better part of twenty minutes before he decided it must have been some modern slang he didn't know yet, and he didn't doubt James would enjoy trying to educate him on it when he next saw him.

Steve sighed happily to himself at that, setting his phone on the bedside table and lying back against his pillow with a smile on his face in the dark. He had something to _look forward to!_ Something that didn't involve mud, guns, aliens or Nick Fury!

And, most importantly, he wouldn't be doing it alone.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey you guys, long time no see! First off I want to say I'm really sorry for the long delay for this update and I'll try not to leave it so long before the next one! Secondly, thanks to everyone who has still been reading and asking when the story will continue, it was a great motivator to keep me persevering with chapter 4 <3
> 
> I still really love Steve and James and I know absolutely where I want this story to go, but for some reason this chapter just wouldn't work with me. In the end I thought it's best to stick with it for as long as it takes and try to make it better than to post something bad that I didn't like, so I hope now this chapter is here it was worth the wait x)
> 
> Disclaimer: I have no idea about the ins and outs of gardening, so lets just pretend that everything within this fic is legitimate, or suspend disbelief if it isn't xP
> 
> And finally, after this long wait – I hope you enjoy! :D x

 

**Message received from James:**

_Hey, man. Is it too much to ask for another ride on that bike of yours today? ;)_

**Message sent to James:**

_Not at all. Want me to pick you up ;)_

**Message received from James:**

_Would be awesome! Same place as yesterday?_

**Message sent to James:**

_Sure thing ;)_

**Message received from James:**

_I see you've found your way around the keypad..._

**Message sent to James:**

_Yup ;)_

**Message received from James:**

_You don't know what an emoji is do you_

**Message sent to James:**

_Nope. Why ;)_

Steve tapped the 'send' button on his cell phone screen, a grin far too wide on his face for first thing in the morning. It was the first time in his life he'd ever sat in bed with the blinds still closed, looking at his phone and blinking against the glare in the dark of the room. He didn't feel like moving just yet, intent on waiting for the inevitable reply that would be coming his way soon, although the thought that when he did get up he'd get to ride with James back to Becca's house _was_ a rather motivating one.

It ended up taking him entirely too long to get ready that day: Steve kept leaping to his phone whenever that little chime sounded, his heart flipping in excitement to see what new little words were waiting for him. He even hopped out of the shower a few times too, until he almost skidded head over heels on the wet tiles and decided he was being ridiculously over eager. James' messages would still be waiting for him in five minutes, he reasoned. Even so, hearing the chime go off and not being able to read the messages was like having an itch he couldn't reach, and Steve thought he could understand the modern fascination with cell phones a little more now than he had before... or, a whole lot more.

They decided on a time when he would pick James up, a few hours from now, and even though he knew they would have all day together working on Becca's garden plans, Steve still spent the whole morning constantly checking his phone and wishing the time would speed past until he could see the man again. This texting thing was pretty neat, he had to admit as he smiled into his coffee and carefully typed out his latest reply with fumbling thumbs – back in his day he'd have had to wait to see James in person to talk to him again, but this way it was like the conversation had just never stopped.

The topic stayed away from Bucky and the awkward confession of last night (and for that, Steve was grateful) and it was like he'd never said anything about it at all. James was as lively and energetic as he'd been in Becca's house yesterday, holding nothing back from their constant exchange of texts like he was sitting right next to Steve and saying whatever popped into his head the moment he thought of it. It was liberating, and nothing like putting in the time and care of crafting a message the way Steve would have when writing a hand-written letter to somebody.

He couldn't deny that he felt a burst of excitement going through him every time he saw James' name pop up on the screen, and he thought that maybe he didn't have to be such a grandpa out of time here. This was what modern young people did, right? Spent every waking moment attached to their phones while ignoring their real surroundings? Steve thought he could seriously get behind it.

Finally the time came when he could ride over to pick up James, and it only occurred to Steve as he was cruising through the city on his motorcycle to begin to feel nervous.

What if things were different when they spoke to each other in person now? It was so easy through the phone, after all. He remembered James' face, recalling how handsome and alike he was to Bucky for the first time today – it wasn't difficult to differentiate between the two in his head, but when he got a painfully embarrassing flashback to the moment James had walked into his life yesterday, subsequently ambushing Steve with feelings and turning him into a numb, gaping statue, he began to second guess himself. What if he made a fool of himself again...?

He turned off the bridge and into Brooklyn, easily navigating the streets of his childhood while his mind was preoccupied with other things.

James _knew_. Steve had admitted his deepest, darkest secret for the very first time and suddenly he felt the cold fingers of regret wrapping around him. James knew how Steve had felt about Bucky, and he'd only known the guy for less than a day! Could he even trust him to keep his secret? Was James actually as kind and comfortable to be around as Steve remembered? Had he built it all up in his head with the persona talking back to him from the other side of his cell phone?

When he finally stopped on the sidewalk where he'd left James last night, he found his stomach tying itself up into knots. Steve fidgeted as he waited, reminding himself of how nervous he'd been arriving at Becca's door yesterday and of all the joy that he'd experienced since. He was sure there was nothing to be worried about.

When the door opened Steve almost jumped he was so wound up, but he managed to catch himself before the tall form of a man dressed all in black emerged from the front of the building. His long hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, exposing the chiselled bone structure of his face and melting Steve's insides to mulch when he caught a glimpse of the man he'd grown up with for just a moment before James shone through. Then the man greeted Steve with a happy smile, and most of his uncertainties evaporated in an instant.

_Most_ of them.

“Oh jeez...” Steve breathed, trying to fight back the sudden onslaught of butterflies in his belly that were telling him something he wasn't sure he wanted to hear. He smiled back, helpless not to under the infectious glow that James projected. He felt his blood rushing through his veins in pins and needles, making him almost breathless when James descended the steps, until he swallowed down the last of his nerves and pulled out his motorcycle helmet.

“Thanks, Gramps.” The guy took the helmet and slipped it onto his head, his smile growing wider when Steve groaned.

“Oh God, that's sticking around isn't it?” He said, referring to the nickname and trying to keep a serious expression on his face as James climbed onto the back of the bike, causing it to sink down with the added weight of his bulk beside Steve's. He was so solid, a real presence compared to that chiming of his phone that Steve could still hear phantom sounds of repeating in his head.

Sure, he might have been becoming accustomed to the modern way of things, but he thought he'd always prefer real human interaction to that on the cell phone, the way he grew up getting to know people. Besides, James wasn't so scary after all, Steve noticed, and found himself relaxing.

“Would you rather I call you 'Cap'?” James' voice was muffled through the helmet, but Steve could still hear his smile.

“Everyone else does.” He replied, unable to help the slightly scathing tone that slipped out. Then those thick arms snaked around his waist, successfully distracting him when James' chest pressed warmth to his back.

“Well I'm not everyone else.”

And no, indeed he wasn't, Steve thought. He smiled to himself, then remembered they were meant to be driving and kicked the engine into gear.

“Onwards, Gramps!” James ordered from his back, and Steve had to laugh as they peeled away from the sidewalk and drove away through the streets of Brooklyn.

 

 

~ ~ ~ ~  


 

They spent the first day in Becca's kitchen, devouring more of those delicious sandwiches while crowding over the island counter with paper sprawled over the surface and a pencil in Steve's hand. James wanted the garden to reflect Becca as a person, while also designing it to best accommodate her in her old age (something that was still ridiculous for Steve to accept – that the baby girl he'd known was now a pensioner). Steve did his best to keep up and bring James' vision to life on the plans, a challenging process for him also, since Steve had never tried his hand at architectural drawing before.

James seemed to like what he came up with anyway so the inaccurate lines from Steve's hand were corrected by the true professional here and made to scale, while Steve got to just sit back and watch the man go over his handiwork with an awe inspiring mix of ease and care. He clearly knew what he was doing, and it made a fondness bubble up inside Steve to see that twinkle in James' eye and about his entire person as his passion for the subject radiated off him clear as day.

By the time they were finally done, Steve found himself itching to get out into the yard and get started on the dirty work sooner rather than later; he wanted to know what all the fuss was about, what exactly it was out there that made James beam with joy.

 

 

~ ~ ~ ~  


 

It turned out the image in Steve's head of a burly and muscled James vanishing to make way for a secret gentle gardener was entirely false. He was just as burly and muscled as before: there was no motherly nurturing over the plants, no beautiful moments of him amidst the flowers like an ethereal being (perhaps Steve had let his imagination get a little carried away there). Instead he was all heavy boots and tattered jeans, dirt under his fingernails and a bedraggled ponytail that stuck to his neck in the summer sun.

Weeds were ripped out with barely an effort and thick tread marks were trampled in the mud in his wake... Steve honestly saw no reason to be there at all, because at the rate James was going he'd have everything done in a week. Even so, he went where James directed him and did as he was instructed, and quickly came to find that gardening was thoroughly enjoyable and actually pretty therapeutic. More so than he'd been expecting.

Perhaps he had initially joined in because of his reluctance to spend the summer alone, or because he would get to spend more time with his new friend or because it would be making Becca happy. What Steve hadn't counted on was the sense of freedom and relaxation that came along with it: it felt good to have a purpose, to have a project that didn't involve destroying anything or using his super soldier strength, except on the particularly stubborn weed or when carting all of the cement bags from one side of the garden to the other in one trip. Steve felt a little glow of pride in his chest when James stared at that last act, before the guy made him start ripping out brambles in the furthest corner of the back yard, like a child sent to the naughty corner.

“This isn't a place for one-upping each other, this is a place of peace and relaxation and joy. Or at least it will be once you finish your chores. I want that corner spotless by lunch, understood?” James tossed him a pair of thick gardening gloves and Steve could see him trying to hide the smirk at the corner of his mouth.

He fought down the fresh rush of butterflies in his stomach at the sight, and at the way James tucked a loose lock of dark hair behind his ear from where it had escaped his messy ponytail. God, he looked so like Bucky with his hair back from his face like that... but then again, he felt entirely like _James._ Bucky would never have sent Steve to the naughty corner.

“Sir yes sir.” He saluted and felt far too pleased with himself when he made James' facade break and a laugh spill through. Steve then happily got to work on his 'chores' as James turned back to his shovel where he was digging up the old, sparse turf of the yard.

A cheery little buzz sat in his chest as the time sped by, and even though they only made short conversation as they concentrated on their own tasks, it was easy working with James. By the time Becca called them back to the house for some lunch, Steve's corner of the yard was indeed spotless.

The week passed that way, and the one after, and it became their routine: Steve would work with James throughout the day, stopping for lunch and a chat with Becca, and Wynn when she'd pop round to check in on them occasionally, and he would pick James up on the way to Becca's house in the mornings and drop him off at night.

On the days they weren't working together to turn the yard into a beautiful masterpiece, so far only consisting of a lot of dirt, cement and piles of concrete slabs, they were texting. Steve very quickly, and unfortunately, discovered 'typos' and 'autocorrect', as James called them, and after an embarrassing mishap on his part, Steve and James proceeded to send each other stupid (and sometimes explicit, to Steve's horror and delight) texts while insisting they'd meant to write something else. The whole thing was so ridiculous and fun that Steve couldn't believe he hadn't known this form of communication his whole life, and he only wished he could have shared the same experience with Bucky.

Bucky... he would have loved all of this instant messaging and cell phones and Mario Kart, Steve knew.

That place in his chest would never stop reminding him of what he'd lost. It burned him fiercer every day each time he thought he'd just got a handle on the pain deep inside him, but Steve found that the more he kept himself busy and began to laugh and have fun in his life again, the more emotions he had to focus on instead of just that constant, bone-deep ache. He wasn't alone anymore, existing only to jump into action whenever the government needed Captain America – he was part of a family again, with people who were always pleased to see him and had practically adopted him into their family like he'd never left it.

It was strange at first, for this to be his life again, to have a safe space to return to time and time again where he was always welcome. But after these two weeks it began to feel like the life he could have had the first time if the war had never happened, or if he'd still been around in 1945 afterwards (without the futuristic sci-fi technology like cell phones, of course). It made him feel _normal_ , like he wasn't just a man who'd been frozen in ice for 70 years and skipped everything. He loved that feeling.

And he loved the way he felt just like a regular guy around James. Sure, he was a regular guy just learning the ropes of modern life, but James never treated him like he didn't belong except for the choice names he still liked to call him, such as 'dork' and 'Gramps'. Steve found they didn't bother him enough to make him stop.

They never talked about it, but Steve also never forgot the press of James' lips against his own from the very first day...

On one particularly warm summer's afternoon (the second Friday of their gardening project, not that Steve was keeping track of course), he and James were working in Becca's yard in shorts and t-shirts as they paved the path to Steve's beautiful, spotless corner where they were going to build a summer house. They were on their hands and knees, covered in their daily dose of dirt, when Steve learned something else new about the 21st Century.

“Is _that_ what everyone's been doing when they come up to me in the street with their phones?” He asked and sat back on his heels, wiping his hands off on the already dirty fabric of his knee-length shorts.

James laughed at him. “What did you think they were doing?”

“I have no idea. They'd smile so I smiled, I didn't realise they were taking a photograph.” He chuckled too when James continued to laugh, feeling more than a little stupid but deciding that he didn't much care. There was far too much to keep track of here in this century, and he'd learned the hard way it was best sometimes to just let some things go. Like after you google yourself.

Especially after you google yourself.

He could hear birds twittering and the distant screams of kids playing in one of the other yards, and all felt content and peaceful in the neighbourhood. It was turning into evening and the sky was a gorgeous wash of fluffy clouds as the sun slowly made its way around, slowly turning orange and lifting some of the heat they'd been basking in all day. It looked set to be a beautiful night.

Steve tipped his face up to feel the glow of the sun on his skin, stretching out his back now that he'd taken a moment of pause. The sun was the only thing that hadn't changed from his childhood, and when he closed his eyes and breathed in the grassy smell in the air he had a light, giddy feeling fluttering in his belly. He was _happy_ , his muscles buzzing after a cathartic day's gardening and his cheeks beginning to hurt with how much he'd been smiling today. It was an occurrence he was slowly getting used to again.

Who knew, when he'd awoken to an unfamiliar New York in a different century, that he would be allowed to have _this?_ He sucked in another deep breath through his nose, smelling the earth, the grass and the fresh air. It was glorious.

“We should go out.” James' voice interrupted him, and when Steve cracked open an eye he saw the man watching him with an amused smile. His hair had been tied back in his usual ponytail but slowly over the course of the day more and more dark strands had slipped free until there was barely a purpose for his little hair tie at all. Steve had grown better at ignoring the butterflies that ignited in him when James looked at him a certain way, and just casually raised an eyebrow at him.

“Out?” He repeated.

“Sure, why not? We've been stuck in this yard for two weeks, I'm startin' to get stir crazy.” James sat back on his heels too, wiping off his dirty palms on his own shorts before he pulled free the elastic from the ends of his hair and ruffled the long tresses with one hand. Steve looked away with a smile on his lips and those butterflies kicking up a notch.

“Where would we go?” He had to admit the idea didn't sound unappealing. Actually, it sounded great. To be somewhere with James that didn't involve the store down the street, Becca's house or the drive back to Brooklyn.

“To see the modern world. It's not good enough just to watch it from afar, you need to become a _part_ of it!” James' eyes lit up in excitement.

Steve tried to pretend that idea didn't terrify him a little bit. “...What do you have in mind?”

“Alcohol, obviously.”

“Uh oh; I can't get drunk.” Steve said as they both climbed up to their feet, stretching out their limbs from bending over all day.

“That's alright – you'll be the designated driver.” They laughed, and Steve found himself thinking that if James was with him, then maybe it wouldn't be so bad...? His trepidation must have shown on his face, because James clapped an encouraging hand against Steve's back. “C'mon, let me help you have fun! What do you like to do?”

“I don't dance.” He said quickly, just to get that out there. James smiled and nodded, taking it on board. “But, uh, I always liked music. I'd like to see what the modern stuff is now?” He said uncertainly, wondering if it was too late to suggest a walk through Central Park instead. At least that way it would be just him and James.

“I know where to go for that.” The guy started clearing up their equipment, leaving it aside for them to pick up from where they left off next time.

Steve shuffled a little where he stood, feeling suddenly goofy as he looked down at his shorts and t-shirt. He'd foregone shaving the past few days – he'd only been in the garden, and the dirt didn't care if he was clean shaven or not – and Steve figured he probably looked kind of homeless, with a darkening shadow of stubble on his jaw, his clothes all dirty and his hair all in a mess. “I, uh... don't have anything to wear.”

James looked up at that, giving Steve a once over before he straightened up and beckoned him to follow as they headed back into the house.

“I got you covered.”

That was how they found themselves pulling up outside James' apartment building. It never got old, riding with him on the back of his motorbike with their bodies pressed together the whole journey. It was the part Steve looked forward to most, the most human contact he got these days. But as many times as he'd picked James up at the sidewalk, he'd never been inside his actual apartment before. Stepping through the door James always disappeared behind felt like Steve was entering a restricted area he wasn't supposed to be in, and he followed the guy up a few flights of stairs as his stomach flipped with the thrill of it.

When James unlocked a door and allowed Steve inside, he stepped over the threshold with a swirling feeling of familiarity; the apartment wasn't particularly familiar in itself, but the way it was too messy and too small for all the furniture squeezed inside reminded him of his old apartment here in Brooklyn. Of course, Steve had never had a flat screen TV in his.

“It's a shoebox, but it's home.” James announced as he closed the door behind them.

Steve looked around at the piles of DVDs and clothes strewn over the coffee table, a few pairs of trainers kicked carelessly beside the door and multiple days worth of dirty dishes by the sink in the adjoining kitchen. Dust swirled in the shafts of lazy sunlight drifting through the windows that illuminated the wreck of the place, and it had that not unpleasant, slightly musty smell about it too. He smiled to himself.

“I like it.”

“Huh. Well, come with me. This is where the magic happens...” James wiggled his eyebrows suggestively as he led the way down a short hallway and into his equally as messy bedroom. Steve just chuckled, feeling a little weird for invading James' private room but the man himself didn't seem to care at all. He tried not to let his eyes linger on the double bed crammed against the wall, with the sheets and blankets all in a mess like James hadn't made his bed in weeks. Judging by the rest of the apartment, he probably hadn't.

James stopped at his closet after he pulled open the doors. Surprisingly, it wasn't in too much of a mess.

“You hang your clothes up and everything? I'm impressed.” Steve teased as James just rubbed a hand on the back of his neck.

“Yeah, well. When you live alone there's no-one to kick your ass into gear to tidy your shit up. Doesn't mean I have to look like a slob.” He said with a little defensive smirk.

“You _are_ a slob.” Steve pointed out and earned a jab on his chest for his efforts.

“Hey, I'm trying to help you out here. If you'd rather wear a dirt-stained T-shirt and shorts tonight, be my guest.”

That sobered Steve up a little, and he carefully leafed through the hangers upon James nod of permission. He had no idea what he was even looking for and most of these appeared to be simple T-shirts or hoodies themselves, not much better than what he was currently wearing. He finally picked up a smooth leather jacket for a quick inspection, turning unsure eyes on James because he had no idea if this was supposed to be smart or casual.

In fact, he had no idea if he was _supposed_ to be dressing smartly or casually at all. God, Steve had always hated getting ready to go out places, and now his utter lack of knowledge on the modern fashion trends was even more of a hindrance than before.

James was still smirking at him with his arms crossed over his chest. “You wanna wear that?” He didn't sound against the idea, more like he was surprised by what Steve had picked. He felt his ears flush pink at his own incompetence.

“What am I even supposed to look like tonight?”

“Depends on who you're trying to impress. Guys or girls or both. There's a knack to these things.” James took the leather jacket from Steve and put it down on the bed, apparently oblivious to the sudden stiffness to Steve's posture.

“Uh...” He managed, unsure what he was supposed to say to that.

When James turned back around his brow creased in confusion. “What?”

By Steve's lack of reply, James' expression slowly changed into something that meant he'd realised he'd said something that took Steve off guard. He looked away and thoughtfully tucked his bedraggled hair behind his ear as he appeared to look for something to say to salvage the situation, dirt still caked under his fingernails from their day of labour in the garden.

Just as simple a thing as that (a reminder of their day together and all the easy days these past two weeks), managed to snap Steve out of the ice that had sunk into his gut as he reminded himself that James was his friend. He'd _kissed_ him for Christ's sake – like it was nothing – and to James the prospect of 'impressing guys or girls or both' appeared to be the most natural thing in the world.

Steve swallowed at the _zing_ that ran through him, a tiny confirmation of the thing they'd never spoken about since he'd confessed to James about his feelings for Bucky. James _remembered_ , and he'd understood what Steve had been trying to say that night. Ever since, James had never acted any differently toward him and Steve had found himself wondering if the man hadn't really made sense of his ramblings at all. But now he knew for sure that James knew Steve had been in love with a man and that he didn't care. Or at least, it didn't bother him.

He breathed out shakily, allowing his shoulders to fall from up by his ears. He hadn't even noticed he'd been so tense.

“I wasn't sure you remembered.” He admitted, laughing shortly under his breath at his own naïve, wishful thinking. It wasn't that he didn't want James to know exactly, it was just _anyone_ knowing was a lot more than he was comfortable with. Steve wasn't sure how it made him feel to bring up this conversation again.

James smiled softly at him, like he wanted to tease Steve for being so stupid to think he'd forgotten something from so recently, but refrained from doing so. “I remember. It's just not a big deal.”

Steve sighed, wishing it were so. “It kinda is, though.” He mindlessly flipped through more hangers, not really seeing the clothes he was looking at. “You're the only person I've ever told. It just feels... weird for me to talk about it, I guess.”

“I get that. You're still in the closet, and that's okay.”

Steve frowned and looked at James in confusion, completely lost now. “You said I could borrow some clothes...?” He withdrew his hand in case the man had changed his mind, but instead James just grinned at him like Steve had missed another obvious joke.

“Yeah you can. 'In the closet' is just a term for someone who keeps their sexuality a secret.” James nudged Steve away so he could fish out some possible outfits for him, working much more quickly than Steve had been. He was grateful to have that responsibility lifted from his shoulders.

“Oh. Okay. I didn't know that.” He said to his hands, trying to pick the dirt out from under his own fingernails.

James laughed and shook his head fondly. It made Steve not feel so stupid.

“It's still taking some getting used to that men and men and women and women can be together with no repercussions. It's amazing that it's just allowed and nobody can say or do anything about it anymore.” Steve said sincerely, getting out of James' way and sinking down on the edge of his bed to watch the master at work. He'd already put a new shirt down on top of the leather jacket.

“Yeah, it is.” James said with a smile to himself. “At least mostly. There are still people out there who have issues with us.”

“'Us'?”

“The LGBTQ community.” James said. Steve blinked at him, trying to hide the confusion from his face because he could tell this was still a pretty serious topic. James gave him a look before he buried himself in the closet again. “You really gotta do your homework, dude.”

  


~ ~ ~ ~

  


They ended up taking turns in the shower to wash all the day's dirt and grime away. James put on Mario Kart for Steve to practice and amuse himself with when he went first (amuse himself with by simply trying to remember the correct buttons on the controller, that was), and when it was Steve's turn he tried not to feel anything about the fact that the mirror and shower door were still steamed up from when James had just been in there minutes previously.

He washed quickly, surprising himself when he realised he'd just had a short discussion about his non-heterosexuality and that he felt pretty okay about it. Maybe if the topic came up again, he'd be able to do a better job of making it last.

Steve mentally clapped himself on the back for his bravery and stopped in front of the mirror with a towel wrapped around his hips. He didn't look as bad as he'd expected to anyway, now that he was at least clean; the stubble on his jaw was darker than when he'd last looked, but Steve found that he didn't hate it and he didn't want to go fishing around in James' bathroom for a razor, so it stayed. He then ran his fingers through his still wet hair in lieu of a comb and hoped for the best, picking up the bundle of clothes James had loaned him.

The guy had picked out an outfit for him that was decidedly 'neutral': the leather jacket, a casual shirt and jeans, with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows and the top two buttons undone (James made sure of when he came out of the bathroom). Steve had no better ideas so he decided just to go with it, a little too distracted anyway by how well James could scrub up himself: the guy had opted for a soft, long-sleeved top that fit him snugly, that with his luxurious freshly-washed locks made him look even more beautiful than usual. And Steve hadn't thought he could get more beautiful than when his hair was stuck to his neck and his skin was glowing under the midday sun in Becca's yard.

He'd been wrong.

Steve munched on his fingernails and tried not to stare, feeling his nerves about where they were supposed to be going getting the better of him. When he asked James, all he got was a “You'll like it.”, but Steve wasn't quite convinced...

  


~ ~ ~ ~

  


It was still light outside when they rolled up to the bar, sunset settling in nicely and bringing out the glare of the windows dotted all down the street. It was fairly quiet out on the sidewalk when the engine of Steve's bike cut out, with just distant pedestrians talking between themselves and the muffled acoustics of music bleeding out from the bar a few buildings along.

Steve blew out a sharp, nervous breath as his hands refused to let go of the handlebars, and suddenly he felt like he was suffocating in James' buttoned up shirt: he'd never been good at going out in the first place, but this would be the first time he'd been anywhere like this without Bucky encouraging him on from his side. The first time in his entire life.

Steve had grown used to this new experience of gardening and opening his social circle to new people (James, mostly), but this would be a whole other step he wasn't sure he was ready for. Integrating into the modern world, _becoming a part of it_ as James had put it, was a lot more scary than Steve had been expecting, and he just wanted to turn around and spend the rest of the night trying to beat the Rainbow Road from the safety of James' cluttered apartment.

He closed his eyes, trying to will himself to get it together. There were going to be a lot of things he'd have to do without Bucky now, and he knew he'd have to take the leap some time. Even so, the prospect of going into a crowded place with real young adults and trying to act like one of them was absolutely terrifying: what if someone recognized him? What if he stuck out like a sore thumb? What if it all became too much once he was in there and he froze up and made a fool of himself?

Suddenly he became aware of solid, reassuring hands lightly stroking over his belly, a reassuring gesture from where James' arms were still wrapped around his waist. Steve almost shivered. Then he felt the guy lean forward so his cheek was basically resting against Steve's shoulder as James tried to get a look at his face.

“Relax, we're just gonna hang out, you and me. Listen to some music, have some drinks.” James said, his voice low but loud next to Steve's ear. He turned his head to meet those blue eyes, feeling the lump that was building in his throat settle a little. James grinned, so happy and young and comfortable to be here, here with _Steve_ , and introducing him to his modern world.

He really was beautiful.

“No pressure, 'kay?” James added with a last pat to Steve's stomach before he leaned back and withdrew his arms.

“Right.” Steve said to himself, absorbing those words. No pressure. He wasn't going in there to entertain an audience – he was going in there to have some casual drinks with his friend. And maybe Bucky wouldn't be here this time, but that didn't mean that Steve was alone. He felt so unbelievably grateful again to have James in his life now. “Right.” He repeated, more sure this time, before he climbed off the motorcycle and James followed suit.

As they approached the door and the music spilling out from inside grew louder, Steve told himself that as long as James was here to guide him then he would be okay. It was just a bar, he'd been in plenty of them in his time. Maybe he'd even find that he'd enjoy himself...?

When they entered the bar, suddenly the gentle sunset was swallowed up by the atmosphere of the dark room with twinkling lights, a small stage on the opposite side of the venue and lots of plush little booths dotted around the room. Instantly it felt like it was straight out of the future, with sleek architecture and more of a blue-ish tone than the typical browns Steve was used to, and even though it was a shock to his system, he had to admit there was something exciting about it. Steve looked around with wide eyes, impressed, and taking in the people not all doing 'modern kid things', but just acting like regular men and women. And, to his relief, none of them even took a double take his way.

“Whaddya think?” James nudged him with his elbow, raising his voice to be heard over the din of the place. Steve didn't immediately take his eyes off the crowd or the woman singing on the stage with a guitar and her hair half shaved on the side of her head. _That_ was something he'd never have seen in his day anyway, but the sight brought a smile to his face.

“It's not what I expected anyway.” He said, and could tell that James had seen the awe on his features already.

He followed the guy closely toward the bar, looking around at all these young people and realising that while, yes they weren't acting too differently from the young adults in his time, they all looked wildly different from each other: it was like looking at a painting, every time he blinked he saw another detail he'd missed before. While there seemed to be a trend of women wearing very low cut necklines or short skirts or the two together, every person he saw was dressed in their own distinct way and no two people looked alike. Perhaps that was why modern fashion had been so difficult to pin down, but Steve liked the thought that you could dress however you wanted and not necessarily have to conform to what everyone else liked. There was even a man in here wearing a skirt, and Steve grinned at the sight of him.

“Look!” He said into James' ear enthusiastically, causing him to turn around with their drinks to see what had caught Steve's attention just as the man in the skirt happened to look their way. Steve smiled at him and received one in return, then the man lifted his glass like he was toasting him. James still had their drinks, so Steve just lifted his hand to wave back instead when his friend caught his wrist in the air.

“Don't do that.” James sounded like he was trying not to laugh before he ushered Steve away in the other direction from the man in the skirt. The guy just turned away again like they had never existed.

“Why not? I'm just trying to show solidarity – the courage that guy had...” He allowed James to manhandle him away anyway, their two bottles clinking together in his other hand. Steve took one from him to save them from falling.

“I don't think solidarity was what was on his mind.”

It only took a moment for Steve to understand, and when he did he flushed pink from his ears to his toes. “Oh.” He heard James snickering at his back and could only helplessly join in, feeling completely foolish and more than a little embarrassed. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Someone's gotta teach you the ropes, and you're in very capable hands.” James smiled at him that way he did when Steve was showing his true age, but with that warm hand guiding him on his back and the lingering scent of James' shower gel clinging to Steve's skin, he only felt comforted to have him near.

It felt strange to see him in a setting that wasn't full of dirt or cement or Becca's home cooking. Out here in the world James felt even more confident than before, like he'd tread this path plenty of times and was fully equipped to handle anything that came his way, and as long as Steve stuck with him out here then he would be okay. Perhaps it also had something to do with them not having Becca in constant close proximity – it really was just Steve and James here now, and that thought made those butterflies burst to life again inside his belly. The darkness of the bar and the slightly husky voice of the musician probably didn't do anything to help with that feeling either.

They left through a back door and stepped out into a quaint little courtyard out the back of the bar. There were tables plopped sporadically around the space but only a few other people seemed to be out here, most preferring the atmosphere of inside. Steve, though, felt glad to move into this toned-down version for his first time out, and found his trust in James reinforced when they finally sank into a padded wicker sofa against the back wall where they could still hear the acts from inside but also hear each other talk.

Out here in the last haze from the day, with the shadows stretching and the sun disappearing somewhere behind them, Steve could already feel himself relaxing. The wall behind them was swathed in ivy (Steve had a new appreciation for plant life after these past two weeks getting his hands dirty), they had a little table for their drinks, twinkling lights were strung up around the courtyard and they had the back corner all to themselves.

James had been right: he did like it here.

The soft fabric of James' top brushed against Steve's arm as they settled in their seats, and he caught the heady aroma from him that had flooded the shower after James' use. It was odd, the two of them being clean for a change. James laughed for some time when Steve mentioned so aloud.

“So how come you and Bucky Barnes were never a thing, then? With flirting skills like that he should have been all over you...” James teased, nodding his head in the direction of the bar where the man in the skirt would now be lost amongst the crowd.

If Steve was honest he'd been anticipating this question, though it still made a tingle of adrenaline shoot through his veins at hearing Bucky's name spoken close to his ear so nobody else could hear. The few other people out here were all much too engrossed in their own groups for that anyway.

“Yeah, yeah...” Steve tried to joke, getting the feeling that he wouldn't be allowed to forget about the aforementioned incident for some time. James was smiling, his eyes almost twinkling in the lights as he gave his full undivided attention to Steve. He looked warm and welcoming, patient.

Steve twirled his beer bottle between his hands, sighing a little in defeat. Maybe it would do him good to talk about it? He'd felt lighter somehow after their brief chat back in the apartment, and James himself had said it was no big deal. If he'd kept Steve's secret so far, he saw no harm in opening up to him more. Besides... he thought he actually _wanted_ to.

“It was different back then. The law, the war...” Steve admitted, shaking his head at even remembering. “It wasn't allowed. People thought it was a sickness, something to be cured or beaten out of you. I never wanted to put all that on Bucky. I never wanted to put him in any danger.”

He looked up across the courtyard to where two men were sitting closely together (not unlike himself and James, he realised unhelpfully), but it was obvious in the way they were gazing into each other's eyes that they were more than friends. He smiled to himself and felt James nodding at his story as Steve continued to twirl his bottle, picking at the corner of the label.

“Besides, he liked the ladies a little too much anyway...” He added as he took a drink with the curl of a smile at the corners of his mouth.

He heard James snicker beside him. “So that's true? Everyone knows him as a skirt-chasing womanizer.”

“Yeah, that's true.” Steve gave in with that smile still tugging at his lips, having heard the tales of the Howling Commandos immortalized in history books. “But he was never disrespectful, always a gentleman if even only for one night.”

James lifted his own bottle to his lips even while he continued to watch him over the rim, making Steve burn a little under the scrutiny but he didn't have the will to look away. Finally he said, “You were in love with him?”

Steve flinched, battling his instincts to lie and hide with the newer desire to come clean about himself, even if only to James. He hung his head to signal 'yes'.

“I'm sorry.”

“Yeah...” Steve said, and belatedly noticed that the toe of James' shoe was resting innocently against his own. The guy himself might not have even noticed, but it gave Steve the courage to keep going. “I know he loved me, there's no doubting that – ever. Just... not in the way I wanted.”

The modern music playing inside the bar wasn't so bad, fairly soft and mellow with that same woman singing and playing the guitar. Steve couldn't quite make out the lyrics, but he liked the sound of it, and so far considered himself impressed.

“And what about Peggy Carter? Everyone thought the two of you were the stuff dreams are made of.” James said with a wink, effectively lightening the mood of their conversation again. Steve huffed.

“What is this: 'interrogate Steve night' or something?” He tried to keep the amusement from his face and turned his attention back to peeling the label off his beer bottle.

“Well, yeah.” James stated, unabashed, and the two men chuckled between themselves. When Steve peeked up he saw James shifting in his seat to face him more squarely, his knee bumping against Steve's thigh as the man got himself more comfortable. “Don't you wanna talk about all this now that you're not gonna be arrested for it? I know I would if I'd just come from the 1940s.” He said with a glint in his eye that made Steve feel like he was being challenged.

And of course, he'd never turned away from a challenge in his life if he could help it, and now wasn't going to be any different. Anyway, it was nice to talk about himself for once – everyone else was always too enthralled by the shield or his battle with Aliens over Manhattan. To be the centre of James' attention made his heart thump faster and his skin tingle where James' knee was still touching his thigh, and he found it easy to open up and let his words gush out.

“Peggy and I were never a couple, though I did care about her a lot, that part is very true.” He put emphasis on that, not wanting anyone to think anything less. “I think things could have turned out that way between us... maybe after the war or if we'd just had more time together. But,” He sucked in a breath before smiling sadly at the memory of her, of how she'd made him feel. “It wasn't meant to be.” He told his beer, finally ripping the label off before scrunching it up in his palm to keep his hands busy.

James watched him thoughtfully for a few seconds, mulling over his admission. “Have you ever heard of the term 'bisexual'?” He asked so casually that Steve was confused whether they were changing the subject or not.

“No?”

James gave him that same unimpressed look he had back in his apartment, one that made Steve feel inexplicably guilty for some reason. “Dude, seriously – do your homework.”

Steve laughed it off like he was actually getting in trouble. “You're my teacher, so teach me. I'm the old man here, remember.” He tried not to grin at James' expression, while also rubbing his sweating palms on his borrowed jeans. He wanted to learn more about this stuff (this 'stuff' being everything he'd ever asked himself growing up), and having someone explain it all to him in a way he would understand sounded pretty darn good for a kid who'd had to hide from the world all his life. He was nervous, but he was eager to get started.

James must have seen it on his face because he took pity on him. “Alright. So remember when you almost pissed yourself back in my apartment at the mention of LGBTQ?”

Steve resisted the very strong urge to shove him on the shoulder. “Hey, I did _not_ almost piss myself!”

“Anyway,” James laughed, looking pleased at Steve's indignant squawk of a reaction. “That refers to people who identify as not straight: gay, lesbian, bi etcetera. Is that makin' any sense, Gramps?”

Steve just nodded, trying hard to absorb everything he was being taught.

“Bi, or bisexual, is someone who is attracted to both genders. They could be in love with a man,” James said carefully, and Steve understood what he was getting at. “But they could also have feelings for a woman. It doesn't have to be just one or the other.”

It was like someone had just turned on a light in his brain that he hadn't known even existed, the missing puzzle piece to the jigsaw of his internal battle between Peggy and Bucky. He'd known he cared for both of them, and the thought that he could be attracted to Peggy had been a tiny comfort in his mind back then: a part of him was still normal, even if the rest of him was uncontrollably in love with Bucky.

“I didn't realize there were so many options to choose from.” He said a little numbly, shocked that something he'd been battling with for so long could just be explained away in one conversation. _All_ of Steve was normal, no matter how he felt about men or women? It was unbelievable, and most importantly – a _relief_.

James' wince wasn't the reaction he'd been expecting at his words. “You don't just get to look at a list and choose any one you like, you just _are_ who you are.” 

Steve sat quietly for a minute, pondering this. Finally James laughed at his serious expression and clasped a reassuring hand down on Steve's knee in an entirely friendly gesture.

“Maybe we can save all this talk for another day?” He offered.

Steve breathed out gratefully. “Thanks. I think I just need time to process...” James' touch lingered, beginning to scorch through the fabric of Steve's jeans and raise goosebumps on the skin underneath, but it felt like the guy himself didn't even notice, like it was just the way he was.

Steve was reminded of when he'd first met James and how surprised and confused he'd been by the lack of personal space the man required. He hadn't been sure if James had been flirting with him or if they were just innocently getting along, but over the weeks he'd learned the man was just subconsciously like this with everyone. He liked to be close, and if he was honest with himself Steve found it totally cute on the big, intimidating looking man with the long hair and broad shoulders. Steve's heart warmed in affection for his new friend, and he decided to take the hand on his knee as what it was: a simple comforting gesture.

“What are you?” Steve asked suddenly, causing James to perk up in interest. “Are you bisexual too?” He only wondered after if it was inappropriate to ask, but considering he was pouring his heart out to James, it was only fair.

The man's lips curled up in a sly little smile, a flash of teeth in the twinkling lights overhead catching Steve's eyes. “What, me plantin' one on you never gave you a clue?”

Steve blinked. That was the first mention of their kiss since the incident itself, and it was nice to know that James hadn't forgotten it either. He fought a smile at the memory of those plush lips pressed against his own, and admitted to himself that he'd tried not to wonder whether James was like him since the day the guy had kissed him. He'd figured it was none of Steve's business if James preferred men or women, or both, even. He'd thought the kiss didn't have to mean he liked men, after all James was already an incredibly open minded person. But now that the topic arose and they were having a heart to heart, he wanted to know.

He just raised his eyebrows a little, imploring James to continue. Those lips stretched to a full, beautiful smile now that made Steve's heart flutter with feelings he didn't want to assess.

“I'm gay.” James told him. “I've never been interested in girls, romantically or sexually. It's just men for me, but you might be different and that depends entirely on you. It took me a while to figure all this out of course, but now I'll never go back to pretending.” He took a concluding drink, looking as sure and confident as he always did.

“Hey, if I'm spilling my heart out to you then you have to give me something too.” Steve pointed out, laughing pleasantly at the 'where do I begin' look James gave him. It felt good, to just be having a conversation with no interruptions and no work getting in the way for once. It was easy, like they'd been going out for drinks together for years. Steve grinned. “Start at the beginning.”

“Oh boy. Okay...”

James began to tell him about the girls he'd dated in the past, spanning from high school until his early twenties. Steve couldn't imagine James having to hide who he was for so long: this brave, strong, bold man beside him was everything Steve had always wanted to be. But hearing the story from James' point of view made him realise that James too had had to work to get to where he was today. In fact, his story didn't sound too unlike Steve's (apart from the parts where James had actually had girlfriends, whether he was attracted to them or not). They'd both been living in fear of their feelings, both trying to blend in with society's view of 'normalcy' and both had been greatly unhappy. Seeing James now, so content in his own skin, made Steve wonder for the first time in his life what it could be like, if he, too, stopped trying to hide.

The thought was absolutely terrifying to say the least.

“My mom was pretty okay when I came out to her. Said she was surprised 'cause of my dating record, but then she got over it and she was fine. I'm one of the lucky ones.” James said with a proud little look on his face, and Steve, too, felt even more fondness for Wynn than he had previously.

“And Becca? She knows too?” He spoke for the first time in a long time, having been content just to listen to James talk.

The sun had set completely by now, the twinkling lights were sparkling under the night sky and Steve had lost track of the acts coming and going from the stage inside. The bar and the courtyard out back had really started to fill up, the whole place was thriving now, and he and James had had to squeeze together in the corner of their sofa to be able to continue their conversation. It had been no hardship for Steve anyway, and he felt like he was surfacing for air after having been engrossed in James' life story.

“Everyone in my life knows. I'm not hiding anymore, remember?”

Steve sighed almost dreamily, trying to imagine what that would be like. He physically couldn't. If Captain America admitted to having been in love with a man – Bucky Barnes of the Howling Commandos no less – he thought it would be the scandal of the century! It wasn't something he was willing to find out soon, anyway, that was for sure.

James had swapped onto soda after his third beer, not wanting to get drunk and leave Steve as the only sober one (something that had shocked him entirely, and that Steve had appreciated more than he could say). He had his chin resting on his palm while James was chewing absently on his straw, and he had to try not to watch his lips too often. “What did she say?” Steve asked.

“She just hugged me really tight for ages, then she told me she already knew.” James laughed to himself almost in disbelief, Steve joining in too. He could picture it easily in his mind's eye. “I don't know if she just said it to make me feel better or not, but she never had any issues with it at all. Even though I know she's great, for someone so old I was really surprised...”

James seemed to realise what he'd just said and Steve just raised a challenging eyebrow at him. “For someone so old, I'm pleased to hear it.” He enjoyed the charming smile James offered him to back his way out of trouble.

After the deeply personal conversation they'd just been sharing, Steve decided to let it slide.

He stretched in his seat, trying not to yawn after a long day's labour and a long night drinking. He got the feeling that things were only really starting to kick off in the nightlife of the city, but he was happily winding down now.

“Really though, I'm pleased to hear it. But you won't tell her about me though, right? I don't think I'm ready for anyone else to know.”

“Dude. Of course not. Outing somebody is the ultimate dick move.” James assured him, and Steve laughed because he loved the way he spoke, loved how everything just seemed to come so naturally to James without any hesitation or need for thought. He really was incredibly young, but Steve had a lot to learn from him and felt privileged just to have this young man in his life.

He beamed and looked into James eyes, the blue of his irises dazzling under the lights. Even though he knew he could no longer get drunk, Steve was willing to chalk up his rapidly growing fondness for the man to the alcohol he'd consumed tonight. Or the soda. Whichever one would take the blame, really. After hearing his whole life story, he had an even deeper understanding and appreciation for the guy, something that only made Steve feel closer to him than he had before.

“Thanks.” He smiled, trying to reign in this feeling before it could get the better of him.

James didn't break their eye contact for a few long seconds, then he opened his mouth for a moment before he seemed to decide on his words. “But you know, how are you ever gonna meet someone if you don't want _anyone_ to know. You gotta start somewhere...” When Steve made an embarrassed scoff and looked down, James elbowed him. “I'm serious! You don't wanna be alone forever, do you?”

“I know, I know! I just...” Steve looked around at the people crowding into the courtyard with them, spilling outside from the bar and all of them slowly getting more drunk and raucous as the night wore on. He could see multiple couples making out and everyone else seemed to be hitting on each other or hunting for someone to move in on. It was like watching animals on the hunt, and Steve was more than happy to sit on the sidelines for this one. He had James for company, and that was more than enough for him. “I don't think I'm ready for any of that.” He admitted. “I still need to get my bearings here before I dive into the world of dating. Women, or men.”

James shrugged his shoulders casually like 'jumping into the world of dating' wouldn't be as awful or even more painful than fighting real goddamn aliens. “You don't need to date, there's a whole modern world out there. Hey, I could set you up on Grindr! 'Get your ass kicked by Captain America'...” James said in delight.

“I don't think I even want to know what 'Grindr' is, do I...?” Steve chuckled, for once glad of his ignorance of modern tech. Just knowing James and the context of the sentence was informative enough for him to catch on to what the guy was implying.

“You sure as hell want to know what it is! But I don't think you're there yet...” James resumed his mindless chewing of his straw, smirking in amusement at Steve who gave him the benefit of the doubt.

He picked up his drink to drain the last dregs of soda from the bottom, peering around at the rest of the courtyard again. It seemed like Steve and James were the only two sober people left. He chuckled to himself at that, remembering the way he and Bucky had used to stumble home at an ungodly hour, holding each other up as they struggled to climb the stairs and fit the key in the lock. He would never experience that feeling again, he knew... either the alcohol or Bucky sagging over his shoulders and pinning Steve tight to his side where it was warm and safe.

Steve sighed deeply, feeling the sleepiness from before when he'd been listening to James talk creep over him again. He'd experienced his first night out without his best friend, and it had turned out to be pretty educational. Steve had a lot to reflect on later – and plenty of homework to do – and it was easy not to linger on his bittersweet memories while he was still sitting squished up against the sofa with James and the man's eyes were still twinkling under the lights.

Steve smiled warmly at him, charmed just by the way the man blinked back happily.

“I've really enjoyed tonight.” Steve said. Even though a part of him kind of wanted to stay out, the rest of him could feel it was time to go. He was almost glad, because he didn't want anything to ruin the precious evening they'd shared.

James seemed to understand. “I've had a blast tonight too. I think we need something to commemorate it, don't you?” He said with a smile, and then he was wriggling in his seat with that boundless energy that Steve could absorb off of him like the rays from the sun. He chuckled when James practically climbed on the little table in his attempts to re-arrange himself until he finally settled beside Steve again, now more with his back to him than his front.

“What are you doing?” Steve laughed, his nose tickling and filling with the scent of James' hair when he leaned back to put their faces side by side. He brushed it out of his face and tried not to focus on the silky soft texture running through his fingers.

“Takin' a picture. I'm not just throwing my phone in your face for no reason, remember...?” James gave him a pointed look while Steve rolled his eyes at being made fun of again. “Look into the screen with me.”

Steve did so, and even though he'd gone through the motions countless times on the streets with fans of Captain America, taking a photograph with James for fun – or, to commemorate their fun night out together – was entirely different. Steve's cheeks almost hurt with his smile as James snapped the photo, and it was the moment he knew for sure that he was living in the 21st century when James just presented the picture to him mere seconds after it was taken.

Steve's breath disappeared when he looked at the two of them, side by side. Seeing himself and James together sorely reminded him of he and Bucky the way they'd always been, smiling and happy and enjoying one another's company. James looked so like him, down to the cleft in his chin, except to Steve it was so blatantly clear that this was another man at his side and not Bucky: he saw _James_ , who'd let Steve borrow his clothes and who hadn't made his bed in weeks and who'd lived in denial for most of his life, just like Steve. James who was building Becca a garden because she'd asked him to, who had kept Steve company in this seat all night long because he knew Steve was too scared to venture inside, and who had kissed him as a stranger just to bring him a moment of comfort when he'd needed it most. He saw the man sitting beside him now, teaching him about the world, technology and acceptance in a way nobody else ever had.

Steve felt like his heart grew to twice its size in those moments, as he gazed down at the picture and couldn't keep the smile off his face. When he finally looked up, James took the phone back and busied himself with typing on the screen.

“Want me to send it to you?”

“You can do that?” Steve asked stupidly, still only learning about the tricks his cell phone could do.

“Oh yeah...” James said in a secretive way, which made Steve entirely curious but then think most of it would go right over his head anyway. “Just wait until you find out about dick pics, then you'll really be a part of the 21st century...”

Steve stared at James, whose fingers were flying deftly over the screen, and waited for the punch line that never came.

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to note that while Steve obviously has the super soldier serum that prevents him from getting drunk, sadly none of us have it in real life so if you're going drinking please don't drive a motorbike (or anything else for that matter) home!! Steve is allowed, but I tend to try not to promote drink driving and I hope you're all safe and sensible wherever you go x)
> 
> Again, I know I took a long time to update but I 100% plan on writing this fic to completion and I'm not going to abandon Steve and James and leave this unfinished. Also I know we didn't get much Becca or Wynn this chapter, but we haven't seen the last of them x)
> 
> Thanks for reading! x


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